


Your Words In My Memory

by thatanalystguy



Series: YWIMM Verse || Victuuri Breakup AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Girl Mila Babicheva, Breaking Up & Making Up, Christophe Giacometti is a Good Friend, Crying, Dense Victor Nikiforov, Depression, Drinking, Everyone is done with Victuuri's bullshit, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frustrating Characters, Getting Back Together, Heartbreak, It's Exclusively Yurio, Lots of Crying, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Pets, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Post-Break Up, Realistic Depictions of Depression and Anxiety, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, Some Explicit Language, Stubborn Bois, VictUuri, Yuri Plisetsky Is A Little Shit, Yuri Plisetsky Ruins Everything, Yuri Plisetsky is a Good Son, Yurio is done with Victuuri's bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatanalystguy/pseuds/thatanalystguy
Summary: “I’m sorry for being selfish, Victor. I spent my entire life watching you, wanting to be like you, wanting you all to myself, but now that I have you, I can’t bare to take you away from the rest of the world. No matter how much I want to stay beside you, you were never mine to hold onto. You were a great coach. I feel privileged that you’ve given me the time that you have, but I can’t keep pretending that you want to be with me forever when deep down I know it’s not true. Thank you for everything. Truly. From the bottom of my heart.” Victor pushed himself up, their eyes locking once more, though shock took over the pain and betrayal of Yuuri’s accusatory words when he saw the genuine, sad smile, and soft eyes, which overflowed with tears and admiration. “I love you, Victor.”---Or...Yuri!!! On Ice AU where Victor and Yuuri actually did end things after the Grand Prix even though they know they can't live without each other.Title taken from Set Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. I wouldn't say this needs a trigger warning, but it may be distressing to some. Hell, it's distressing to me, and I'm the one who wrote it! If you've ever been through a really bad break up, you'll know the feeling, and oh boy, it's going to be quite a ride. So back out now, or buckle up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” Yuuri interjected through his own tears. “Don’t apologize. You were-” Yuuri’s hands pushed below his glasses, the frames lifting away from his eyes and over his forehead, tears wetting his shaky palms, his words strangled by tears. “You were the best coach I ever had. Victor. Thank you. Thank you for everything!”
> 
>  
> 
> Victor wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the other man to offer him the comfort that Yuuri had slowly learned to accept from him, but he was frozen in place, afraid of his consolation being rejected. Silent tears fell for what felt like an eternity, even once the two of them agreed to rest, each facing away from the other in their respective, twin beds. Shoulders shook as pillow cases stained with droplets.
> 
>  
> 
> A skater’s heart is as fragile as glass, and on that night, two of them shattered to pieces.

**Barcelona - The night before the Grand Prix Final Free Program**

  


_ “How can you expect me to return to the ice when you’re retiring?!” _

  


The tears cascading from cool blue eyes were the most breathtaking thing Yuuri had ever seen, both marvellously stunning and heart wrenching. The firm grasp on his shoulders poured every ounce of Victor’s passion through his veins, his skin tingling, heart pounding, and his own eyes stinging to hold back the salty droplets that threatened to flood his tear ducts at any moment. 

  
“Seriously, Yuuri? You expect me to go back to skating like everything is normal knowing that you won’t be there?!” No answer. The chocolate gaze which Victor longed to make contact with was cast on the floor, as Yuuri avoided eye contact and worried at his bottom lip, the pink flesh turning red and swelling under the ministrations of his own teeth. “You don’t want to stand on the podium together?” Again, no answer. A long moment of silence dragged on for what felt like hours and Victor released his hold of the other, dropping back to his seat against the window. Yuuri didn’t look up - he was afraid to, he knew that it would be over the minute he locked eyes with the Russian, and the tears he’d fought so hard to contain would break the dam and spill over. 

  


The silence was deafening as Victor watched the floor, tears still flowing strong, dripping from his nose and chin onto the plush, hotel bathrobe. “Say something.” Victor almost whispered, his voice strained and quiet, heavy with hurt and insecurity. “Please?” 

  


Yuuri’s head snapped up, sealing his fate as chocolate brown met with ocean blue and all resolve was lost. Their gaze remained unwavered, focused on each other and nothing else, though neither said a word, their brows furrowed in distress and their eyes silently plead at one another, though neither could place what exactly they were begging for.

  


Yuuri felt as though his teeth would draw blood as they dug into his bottom lip, and his knuckles were white as he clung tightly to the fabric of his sweatpants, his vision blurry behind fogged glasses. “It’s my choice, Victor. My mind is made up.” 

  


Victor didn’t think it was possible for the tears to come any faster, but he was proven wrong as his heart flipped in his check and stomach twisted into knots, he could not control the quiver of his bottom and mimicked Yuuri’s previous gesture in an attempt to stop the uncomfortable fluttering. After another excruciating moment of silence, Victor was able to find his voice, though it was harsh and choked, “I’m sorry Yuuri. I should have been a better coach to-”  

  


“No!” Yuuri interjected through his own tears. “Don’t apologize. You were-” Yuuri’s hands pushed below his glasses, the frames lifting away from his eyes and over his forehead, tears wetting his shaky palms, his words strangled by tears. “You were the best coach I ever had. Victor. Thank you. Thank you for everything!” 

  


Victor wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the other man to offer him the comfort that Yuuri had slowly learned to accept from him, but he was frozen in place, afraid of his consolation being rejected. Silent tears fell for what felt like an eternity, even once the two of them agreed to rest, each facing away from the other in their respective, twin beds.  Shoulders shook as pillow cases stained with droplets.

  


A skater’s heart is as fragile as glass, and on that night, two of them shattered to pieces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A back injury (because two foot spins are Satan and don't let anyone tell you otherwise) and my general schedule is keeping me off the ice for the most part, and I'm also coping with my aunt's birthday being this weekend.
> 
> So! I'm an angsty little dumpster fire right now, and I want those who are willing to suffer with me, while I torture my OTP. Good times, right? I mean it's not like torturing Victuuri with heart wrenching pining and mutual misconceptions will bring the dead back to life, but what can you do? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> ( ^^ Wow, that was cringe worthy. )
> 
> Anyway! It will have a happy ending though, I promise! I can't imagine a universe where they didn't love each other enough to work through anything and they are just so in love with each other. But they're also both really dumb and oblivious, so it will take some divine intervention, and by divine intervention, I mean good friends to call them both out on their shit.
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor slipped into an act, pretending to fall asleep before Yuuri was done with his shower, so he wouldn't have to face him. His eyes closed with a few remaining tears built at the corner, and his sheets pulled above his nose to hide his trembling lip. A few damp strands brushed against Victor’s forehead, a warm nose grazing his cheek, before soft lips pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek bone and delicate fingers brushed at his bangs. His heart leapt with the affections and twisted with a feeling he could only label as betrayal. The patter of stray droplet hit his face.
> 
> “Thank you Victor. Thank you for everything. I so sorry I let you down.”

**Barcelona - The day of the Grand Prix Final Free Skate**

 

_ “Let’s win gold together at the Grand Prix final.” _

Victor’s heart raced, he put on his best imitation of a coach, though he was asked to refrain and did so. He would do anything for Yuuri, anything to make him smile, those chocolate brown eyes enraptured him - he would conquer the world for those eyes. The embrace they shared came with the feeling of a thousand knives plunging into his heart. Their eyes were heavy with tears and their shoulders trembled in each other’s grasp as they both said a silent prayer that it wouldn't have to end. Victor’s breath hitched as a painful jolt shot through his heart as their hands separated and Yuuri took center ice.

 

Yuuri skated in a way he never had before, leaving tears in Victor’s eyes, and a trace of resentment in his heart. How could his Yuuri retire after such a beautiful performance? Victor bit at his bottom lip for a brief second but opened his arms with a painted on smile, waiting for Yuuri to return to him. Yuuri thought to himself that he didn’t want this to be over, and the kiss and cry would be the kiss of death, but he skated straight into Victor’s arms, just as he’d done before.

 

Yuuri took Silver. 

 

Victor debated in fighting with the other man, in bargaining and arguing that the goal was gold, and he shouldn’t strive for second best when Victor knew he could excel. He wanted to rant about how he’d failed him as a coach, but after the Cup of China, Victor couldn’t watch Yuuri’s heart shatter from untrue words again, and so he refrained.

 

The medaling ceremony was long. Yuuri announced his retirement. 

 

The interviews were longer. The two of them couldn’t hide their intermittent tears from the press if they had tried. 

 

The night itself dragged on forever. The silence of their hotel room was deafening.

 

Victor slipped into an act, pretending to fall asleep before Yuuri was done with his shower, so he wouldn't have to face him. His eyes closed with a few remaining tears built at the corner, and his sheets pulled above his nose to hide his trembling lip. A few damp strands brushed against Victor’s forehead, a warm nose grazing his cheek, before soft lips pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek bone and delicate fingers brushed at his bangs. His heart leapt with the affections and twisted with a feeling he could only label as betrayal. The patter of a stray droplet hit his face.

 

“Thank you Victor. Thank you for everything. I'm sorry I let you down.”

 

It took all of Victor’s control not to snap his eyes open and shake the man above him. He wanted to bury his face in his neck and scream his frustrations to the heavens, beg him not to do this, beg him not to retire, reassure him that he had not been let down, not in the slightest. 

 

Victor knew that Yuuri had not meant those words for listening ears, he would never be so bold if he knew Victor had been awake, and to respond would only cause more grief for both of them. Yuuri retreated to his own bed, and the lights clicked off. Victor’s eyes opened to the mostly dark room, small shimmers of light feeding through the sheer hotel curtains, and pressed his face deep into his pillow to muffle any further tears that threatened to spill. Across the room, Yuuri did the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of sucks, but the first few chapters probably will because they are not where I originally started sooooo...
> 
> I don't know why it's so hard for me to go back and build up to where I originally started, but it is what it is and I realized that I probably needed to re-hash the last few episodes to get where I'm going with this. 
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri’s intoxicated chuckles turned to choked sobs and just like clear, liquid pearls the tears fell. Yuuri’s large brown eyes were opened, fixed on Victor’s icy and embittered gaze. “Victor. I don’t want it to end here. I-I want to skate with you forever. But keeping you as a coach means slowly killing you as a competitor. S-So look at the Victor that lives on in me and know that coaching me wasn’t-wasn’t a waste of time.”

**Barcelona - The night of the Grand Prix Gala**

 

_ “I want to smile for my last time on the ice.” _

 

Yuuri mentioned that it would be their last time skating together and both hearts twisted in their respective chests. They both smiled fondly, and embraced, though they both felt bitter sweet, it’s the first genuine smile they’ve shared since the night of the Short Program. They put on an amazing show, mesmerizing everyone with their fluid movements and drawing the audience in with the story of two lonely souls reaching for each other. Never had the call for each other to stay close been so strong, yet both men are stubborn and were completely determined that this is truly what the other wanted. Their hearts were laid bare between each other on the ice in vain, their eyes blinded by assumptions and bleary with heartbreak.

 

The finishing notes rand through the arena and under the colored lights they shared an embrace tighter than any they had shared before - even the embrace the shared at the Cup of China is pale in comparison. Victor cung the tightest, there seemed to be a moment when he’d convinced himself that he’d never let go and he would have been just fine with that. If he didn’t let him go then his Yuuri couldn’t leave him, but the announcers ushering them from the ice forced it to an end. The two smiled as they skate back to the boards, waving at the audience, hand-in-hand, as they avoided each other’s gaze.

 

At the Banquet they avoided each other entirely.

 

Victor couldn’t shake Yuuri’s words from his head as he watched the other skater, the one who  was usually no more than arms length away, from across the room. The smile Yuuri shot back at him was like a searing cut, he looked so sure yet apprehensive and while it didn’t appear genuine, Victor’s chest tightened with both adoration and hurt, the flush on his face betraying the stinging in his eyes. 

  
“What’s wrong Mon ami?” said a familiar voice. At that moment a reassuring grip found Victor’s shoulder and he looked at Chris with eyes welling up, the dam due to break any minute. “Things seem kind of tense between you and Yuuri ever since the free skate. Your know you can talk to me, right?” Victor noded and Chris could tell it was an issue he didn’t need to press. Victor would tell him so if he needed to know, or when he couldn’t bare it alone any longer - that’s how it has always been. “So, will you be coming back now that Yuuri is retiring?” Victor said nothing. Chris looked at him expectantly but Victor turned away, his eyes finding the naturally messy head of black hair, in the crowd, once again. 

 

“I see.” Without further words spoken Chris lead Victor into a nice quiet corner free of partygoers and pulled him into a comforting hug. Victor allowed the tears to spill as he cried into his friend’s shoulder, his hands loosely wrapped around the other man.

 

Across the banquet Phichit fawned over an uninterested Yuuri, who wore a feigned smile. The fact that his friend continued to ask questions about his season with Victor and his sudden retirement creating new wounds and rubbing salt into the others. Phichit didn’t know the details and Yuuri refused to burder him, so Yuuri took it with gritted teeth. Luckily no alarms were raised by his refusal to answer, the red on his cheeks seeming like the normal shy Yuuri. Yuuri’s blush, however, was not from his friend’s persistent grilling about “the kiss”, as Phichit had labeled it, but from fighting back his own set of tears.

 

Phichit’s curiosity piqued when he saw Chris’ overprotective behavior from across the room, an arm around Victor, whose eyes were downcast and red, and the look on the Swiss’ face was borderline disgusted as his gaze passed over Yuuri. Phichit tested the waters and waived at Chris with a friendly smile and the older man’s expression softened briefly to offer his friend a wave, though it wasn’t the flirtatious wiggle of the fingers the Thai man was used to. He continued to watch from afar and noticed Chris leave briefly with Victor and return empty handed - he took his chance, abandoning Yuuri and immediately gliding through the crowds of the banquet hall to perch at Chris’ side. 

 

Yuuri watched with a somewhat genuine smile as something churned in his stomach and a heat burned in his cheeks. He turned away from the scene unknowing of the two pairs of eyes that continued to watch him, Chris’ expression one of disapproval and Phichit’s one of shock. 

 

“No way?! Really? Why would he do that? Yuuri’s been crazy about Victor since he was a kid.” Phichit cried out, his volume higher than it should be though he only took notice when Chris motioned with his hands to keep it down. Phichit obliged, switching to a whisper. “I seriously can’t believe that. Are you sure you heard right? Maybe Victor’s just tipsy?” Chris shook his head. 

 

“‘Fraid not mon cher. I’ve never seen Victor this torn up before. It’s really heartbreaking.” his face was painted into a scowl and Phichit placed a gentle hand against his forearm. Chris sighed and relaxed into the touch, but kept his eyes on the man in question rather than the one beside him. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Yuuri to death. He’s a good man and he has a big heart, but from the time I saw him with Victor at the Cup of China, I knew it would be nothing but trouble.” Chris paused to run a hand through the curls atop his head, gently nursing the champagne flute in the other. “I know he thinks his intentions are good, but he and Victor are both too stubborn for their own good, and while Victor’s no genius himself, Yuuri really can be an idiot, can’t he? They’re both so blind. It really is frustrating.” 

 

Phichit blinked in question, dark eyes wide as he gazed at Chris, pressing for him to continue. “I don’t think I understand?” the younger man chimed in. Chris chuckled and wrapped an arm around Phichit pulling him to a point where their cheeks brushed together and the confusion was briefly erased and replaced with a small grin at the sudden affection. “What I’m saying is I don’t think our dear friends truly see what’s right in front of them. They in for a world of hurt when they realize, too late, that they can’t live without each other.”

 

\---

 

Chris had walked Victor to the room, where he showered and got comfortable, and packed his and Yuuri’s things carefully - just as he’d always done at the end of a competition. This would be the last time Victor would pack Yuuri’s bags to go home, and while it stirred and festered and placed a bitter taste on his tongue, he couldn’t help the droplets passing his tear ducts, mourning for the end of such a small, domestic tradition. He looked a Yuuri’s empty bed - Yuuri would normally be there, flat on his stomach, sprawled and stretched across, lips parted and chest slowly heaving with the shallow breaths of sleep. His glasses would be pushed up in all sorts of directions and Victor would cross the room just to place them on the table and place a quick brush of lips to the other man’s forehead. Although Victor knew he shouldn’t be doing such things without Yuuri’s permission, his heart was overflowing for the man and the act was innocent enough that he’d pushed away this guilt until now. Victor bit into his bottom lip so hard that he was sure he’d drawn blood. It hurt knowing there would be no more secret kisses, no more cherished images of a sleeping Yuuri to lock away in their respective memory vault, no more stolen breaths pulled from Victor’s own lungs as Yuuri did something particularly cute like twitch or mumble or hum, or anything really - her adored him - and that was only in the time Victor would pack their belongings to go back to Hasetsu.

Victor continued to worry his lip, no longer taking the care in packing as he normally did and simply shoving fisstfulls of their belonging into the bags without care to separate them or fold them correctly. His face burned, his lungs stung, his eyes pricked with tears and his stomach turned and flipped so much, he spent a moment almost certain he’d be physically ill, but he pushed it back. Victor’s skin was on fire, his veins tingling below the surface as his heart twisted in directions he didn’t know existed, he could not remember a time he had been this angry, or this heartbroken. He finished the task with his whole body in heated knots, and then laid himself onto Yuuri’s bed, burying his face in the pillow and inhaling Yuuri’s scent while he still had the chance. 

 

He was restless, there would be no sleep tonight in any shape or form and he had resigned to that, retiring to his own bed and flipping through channels on the TV, though he couldn’t understand a word. His expression was oddly numb, his face raw from tears and his eyes puffy, occasionally sniffing in between the change of channels. 

 

After what felt like hours there was a knock on the door, and after muting the TV, Victor could hear three familiar voices. Chris instructed Phichit to hold Yuuri steady, Phichit instructed Yuuri to stand on his own, but all instructions fell on ears deafened by intoxication. From the other side of the door Victor looked through the peephole to see Chris and Phichit holding Yuuri up as he belted through incoherent, yet familiar lyrics, slurred and off-key. Victor opened the door and Phichit and Chris sheepishly grinned, their eyes filled with pity as they flitted between the drunk Japanese man in their arms and the Russian who had obviously been crying until just moments before. 

 

Victor went to step out of the way and Chris and Phichit prepared to step forward, an unspoken agreement that Phichit and Chris would be the ones escorting Yuuri to bed, though a drunken Yuuri had other plans. Yuuri threw himself at Victor before he could step out of the way and nuzzled into his slightly exposed chest, his alcohol-flushed cheeks pressing into the warm plush of Victor’s robe. 

 

Chris and Phichit looked mortified and glanced between each other before offering Victor an apologetic look, but as they were going to step forward and pull Yuuri away, Victor waived them off, a deep longing and hurt obvious in his expression, but with a knowing glance Phichit and Chris excused themselves with a twinge of heartbreak in the back of their eyes. The door clicked shut and Victor continued to hold Yuuri, as he wriggled and nuzzled and all but flailed in the Russian’s arms. 

 

Victor attempted to walk Yuuri to his own bed but the latter plopped down on Victor’s, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck and pulling the other down with him, silver hair tickling his nose. Yuuri giggled and Victor smiled bitterly down at him, though his chocolate eyes were shielded by lids. Yuuri’s intoxicated chuckles turned to choked sobs and just like clear, liquid pearls the tears fell. Yuuri’s large brown eyes were opened, fixed on Victor’s icy and embittered gaze. “Victor. I don’t want it to end here. I-I want to skate with you forever. But keeping you as a coach means slowly killing you as a competitor. S-So look at the Victor that lives on in me and know that coaching me wasn’t-wasn’t a waste of time.”

 

Victor broke. He laid atop the other man, holding him close and crying into the crook of his neck. Yuuri held him and played with silver strands, his fingers uncoordinated as he hiccuped and sniffed through his own sobs. His breath was hot on Victor’s ear, and the next words that pierced the silence of the hotel were quiet and choked, but certain and oddly without slur, as if sobriety had hit Yuuri like a bus, though the smell of alcohol on his breath indicated that sobriety was far away and would potentially bring airsickness with it in the morning.

 

“I’m sorry for being selfish, Victor. I spent my entire life watching you, wanting to be like you, wanting _you_ all to myself, but now that I have you, I can’t bare to take you away from the rest of the world. No matter how much I want to stay beside you, you were never mine to hold onto. You were a great coach. I feel privileged that you’ve given me the time that you have, but I can’t keep pretending that you want to be with me forever when deep down I know it’s not true. Thank you for everything. Truly. From the bottom of my heart.” Victor pushed himself up, their eyes locking once more, though shock took over the pain and betrayal of Yuuri’s accusatory words when he saw the genuine, sad smile, and soft eyes, which overflowed with tears and admiration. “I love you, Victor.”

 

Victor inhaled sharply, something clutching tight in his chest as his eyes continued to burn and the tears flowed faster, droplets falling from his eyes to splash against Yuuri’s face. Victor wanted to scream, he wanted to slap him, beat on his chest, shake him by the shoulders and tell him just how wrong he truly was, but even in his imagination the thought of doing such things to Yuuri made him sick. He couldn’t say a word, though he had so much to say, he wanted to tell Yuuri that his assumptions were wrong, that he did want to be with him forever, but he knew that even if they stuck at the moment, they’d fall on deaf ears when Yuuri woke in the morning, the night non-existent rather than blurred, and there would be no changing his mind. 

 

Victor didn’t know how it was possible, but all the pieces that his heart had already shattered into could still break more, the shards of his already broken heart bursting into tiny splinters in his chest, the pain and emptiness pulling at them with every breath.

 

\---

 

As Victor thought, there was no amount of sleep he could find or beg or bargain for. Yuuri had promptly drifted off soon after his drunken confession, leaving Victor to contemplate and ache in silent longing as Yuuri peacefully snoozed sprawled on his bed. Victor dressed and left the room at the first sight of sunrise.

 

Yuuri woke to packed bags, the gentle lull of the TV, a pounding in his head, a knot in his stomach and no recollection of the night before. Sitting up was not an option at the moment and he still had to evaluate whether or not he was going to be sick, so he laid in silence. The click of the door sent sharp pain through Yuuri’s temples, as Victor returned to the room, and he pulled the covers over his head to shut out the bright light of the hall. Victor didn’t say a word, but instead gently moved around the room, keeping quiet as he went about whatever he was doing, but the amplified sound of everything he did through the room was like torture. A loud thud and a gentle russell against the bedside table sent pain through his entire head, but as he heard Victor’s footsteps retreat he removed the covers and cracked open his bleary eyes. Water, crackers and aspirin awaited him, and though the thought of consuming anything made his stomach churn further, he was grateful for Victor’s kindness. 

 

Yuuri mumbled out a soft “Thank you”, but did not receive a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy - this was a long one. Remember that thing about the first few chapters sucking because they're not where I originally started?? I think I got ahead of myself on that on because I had to slip some of this one into a separate chapter and it's really long comparatively. 
> 
> I'll get full circle eventually...
> 
> ...maybe. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm really digging Phichit and Chris' friendship though, and based on the plans I have for this it could imply some development in their relationship as well - so if this garners enough interest I may do a companion fic on the whole thing from their side. Probably not, because I'm lazy and often uninspired, but we'll see. 
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barricaded in his room, Yuuri clung to his pillow with tears in his eyes, the scent of Victor’s shampoo still surprisingly fresh despite it being quite some time since he’d slept alongside Yuuri in the cramped bed. He looked longingly at his ring and choked out a whisper, hoping that somehow Victor would hear.
> 
>  
> 
> “Goodbye, Victor.”

**Hasetsu - One week after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “You don’t have to say anything! Just stay close to me, Victor!” _

 

The trip to the airport was deafeningly silent. 

 

The plane ride back to Hastetsu was painfully awkward. 

 

The painted on smiles they wore for Yuuri’s family and friend’s hurt more than the deepest of cuts. 

 

They purposefully unsynced their schedules and despite prying regulars to the inn who had become accustomed to the two’s closeness, and the suspicious, knowing eyes of an older sister, it remained unquestioned and was easily dismissed as some passing thing. 

 

So this was it. His Yuuri was a liar? The sting in Victor’s heart for even thinking such a thing made him cringe. No, Yuuri wasn’t a liar. But right now, Victor didn’t think he was a very good person. Not as they sat on the floor of Victor’s Hasetsu bedroom, with boxes stacked high, and packed luggage by the door. Makkachin anxiously snuffled from her place in the corner, curled up and occasionally whining, the distress of her humans laying heavily on her, and the physically present signs of some kind of change leaving her uneasy

 

“So that’s it then? This is what you really want?” Victor muttered, eyes cast down on the floor. Yuuri feigns certainty with a gentle hum of agreement. “Mhm.” He  _ was _ a liar, though not for the reasons Victor had ingrained in his mind. The lie was in his nod as he pushed Victor away, after an all too truthful and desperate plea for the other to stay by his side.  _ That _ was the lie - he did not want Victor to go, but he was certain that the pain of keeping him away from the ice was far greater than the pain he would endure in sending him away. Although Victor had voiced no plans of returning, Yuuri hoped that he’d change his mind, just as Victor hoped that Yuuri would change his.

 

The way Victor’s tears poured were an exact replication of Barcelona, the night before the Grand Prix, his head dropping further. Victor’s jaw clenched, and his teeth gritted as he couldn’t stifle the whimpers and sniffles of his choked out sobs, his shoulders trembling as his hands desperately clutched at his own thighs. Yuuri watched as the tears slipped from beneath silver bangs and pattered against the pale hands, and light gray sweatpants, and he swallowed hard to push back the lump in his own throat. 

 

A reassuring hand found Victor’s, resting there gentle and warm, intercepting the tears from Victor’s own. Yuuri tried to duck his head around to look Victor in the eye as he spoke but the Russian turned his head, refusing to meet that chocolate brown gaze. Victor loved Yuuri’s eyes, his warm, affectionate gaze that have consistently filled him with so much life and love, but now those eyes seemed to mock him as Yuuri tore it all away as easily as he’d given it up.

 

“Victor. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve made my peace with this.” Yuuri was lying through his teeth - he hadn’t, and he doubted he ever would, knowing that the sacrifice of sending Victor back to Russia meant that the other would probably never come back.

 

Victor pulled his hand away swifty, feeling almost burned by Yuuri’s touch. The action caught Yuuri off guard and he felt a swell of guilt bubble in his chest. Victor’s voice cracked as he choked out the only words he could, and they stuck like a knife, harsh and visceral within Yuuri’s chest.  

 

“You’re so selfish, Yuuri.” 

 

\---

 

Victor left two days later, his boxes had already shipped back to Russia and his luggage and Makkachin were in tow as he said his final goodbyes. The ache in his heart when Hiroko encouraged him to come back and locked him in a warm and motherly embrace was too much. The tears came despite his best efforts to hold them back, though he was able to pass them off for tears of gratitude, his heart was twisting with grief - thinking that he would never know this feeling again.

 

“You know you’re welcome here anytime Vi-chan. You’re part of the family now, so don’t be a stranger.” 

 

Victor smiled through the pain. “Thank you all so much. I can never express my gratitude for your hospitality.” His tone was distant, and his eyes reflected it, the unfamiliar formal way of speech taking the entire Katsuki and Nishigori families by surprise. Hiroko suddenly frowned, but figured it must be hard for Victor going back after so long, he had never mentioned any family or friends back in St. Petersburg and Hiroko was worried that maybe he wouldn’t be taken care of the same. 

 

“You’re sure you won’t stay a bit longer so Yuuri can see you off? I’m sure he won’t mind being woken up for such a thing.” 

 

Victor shook his head and waved dismissively, his best media smile in place, the smile that hid an aching heart rather than the heart shaped smile filled with joy and love that had been present since he arrived. 

 

“We’ve already said our goodbyes. I’d hate to trouble you any longer, and Yuuri needs his rest.”

 

“If you’re sure, dear.” Hiroko added. “I meant what I said. Come back any time. This is your home too, you know? We’ll miss you.”

 

Victor nodded and offered a weak smile as he hugged her again. “Yeah. Me too.”     
  


With a wave and a final call of “Dasvidaniya,” Victor left Yu-Topia. 

 

Barricaded in his room, Yuuri clung to his pillow with tears in his eyes, the scent of Victor’s shampoo still surprisingly fresh despite it being quite some time since he’d slept alongside Yuuri in the cramped bed. He looked longingly at his ring and choked out a whisper, hoping that somehow Victor would hear. 

 

“Goodbye, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The next chapter is the first thing I originally wrote for this, and I'm excited to to get that one posted. I hope anyone who is reading is enjoying this as much as I'm, shamefully, enjoying writing it.
> 
> I still have so much to write for this, but the outline is done, so hopefully I'll actually get it done. I've got a lot of time to make up for at the rink this weekend so I don't know how much time I'll have to work on it until next week, but I don't think anyone is super invested in this, anyway???
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makkachin turned a pitiful whimper in a crying howl and Victor pulled her tighter, the obvious distress of his beloved companion tearing at the already opened wound and pulling it further apart. “I miss him too, Makka. So much.” His words were strained and the tears refused to stop, soaking the soft brown fur below him, fingers gently tangled through well-groomed curls, as he stroked her gently in his hold, attempting to sooth her just as she had tried to do for him. Both human and pet were inconsolable, as they cried together for the love they’d lost.

**St. Petersburg - One month after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “After the Grand Prix final, let’s end this.” _

 

The words rang through Victor’s head like a sour note that could not be blocked, reliving the moment every time he closed his eyes in an attempt to rest. Victor twisted the gold band around his right ring finger, tears escaping red, tired eyes, his nose and cheeks raw. Makkachin whimpered from across the room, sniffing and pawing at unpacked luggage as loud whines escaped her, dotted with protesting barks and occasional trots to the door where she did the same. The hole in Victor’s chest grew with each passing day, an empty ache that was once normal, long filled by Yuuri’s life and love, his smile, his laughter...

 

Victor’s eyes stung and his breath seized, a hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt, as if it would stop the pain, and more tears stained his reddened cheeks. “How could he be so selfish, Makkachin?” His companion responded to the choked out words of her person by jumping on to the sofa and pawing at his shoulders in a whined out plea. Victor sniffled and pulled the poodle close to him, holding her tight as he choked out pained sobs into the soft brown curls of her neck. His shoulders trembled and her tail wagged in restless discomfort, the apartment all too quiet and filled with unpacked boxes and bags. 

 

Makkachin was a very relaxed dog, seldom nervous or vocal, she traveled well and handled most situations and changes with ease, but the move back to St. Petersburg had her restless, and upset, unable to piece together why her other human had stayed behind. After a week she had finally stopped pacing by the front door and checking the window every thirty seconds, tail going full force in the expectation that Yuuri would come home at any moment. Makkachin turned a pitiful whimper in a crying howl and Victor pulled her tighter, the obvious distress of his beloved companion tearing at the already opened wound and pulling it further apart. “I miss him too, Makka. So much.” His words were strained and the tears refused to stop, soaking the soft brown fur below him, fingers gently tangled through well-groomed curls, as he stroked her gently in his hold, attempting to sooth her just as she had tried to do for him. Both human and pet were inconsolable, as they cried together for the love they’d lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why was I so excited about getting to this chapter? Now that I've re-read it, it seems kind of lackluster and short...but oh well. 
> 
> Have some pitiful Victor. More pitiful Victor to come. It's downright awful, isn't it?
> 
> #angstyaf
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri pulled back, removing his arm from beneath the bed, and bringing the object of his curiosity with him. He sat cross-legged on the floor and adjusted his glasses before looking down at the object in his hands. No wonder it had felt familiar in his palm. “So that’s why she was whining and scratching at my bed frame for the past several months.” Yuuri's grip on the pink, rubber bone tightened gradually as he attempted to suppress the quiver in his lip, but it was all in vain. He clutched the dog toy to his chest, holding on for dear life, resigning to a hysterical wave of sobs that promised not to let up any time soon. Sure, he had cried since Victor had been gone, plenty of times, but he hadn’t broken into the erratic, heart-stopping sobs like this since the day he left.

**Hasetsu - One month after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “In that case, I hope you never retire.” _

 

Yuuri couldn’t blame Victor for leaving, but he  _ could _ blame himself, and he did. Yuuri wanted Victor by his side forever, yet he sent him away. 

  
Yuuri buried his face in the pillow, nose raw and eyes red. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he muffled into the soft mass. He wasn’t sure who was stupid, he knew for a fact that  _ he _ was, but he felt as though it might be applied to Victor too.

 

Why had Victor left so easily? Sure Yuuri didn’t want to keep him from skating, and Victor had seemed pretty torn up about the whole thing, but even still he seemed blind to Yuuri’s silent pleas to stay with him. He didn’t want Victor to lose his passion for the ice, but that didn’t stop him from wanting other things, too. He’d hoped that Victor would refused to accept his words, that he wouldn’t allow it to end so easily, and that he would insist on staying by Yuuri forever, both as a coach and a competitor, and maybe even more.

 

He knew it was impractical and greedy, but it’s only human nature to want more. The conversation in the hotel room had made Yuuri feel as though he would get that - that Victor wouldn’t go down without a fight. He’d hoped that the statement about being engaged actually meant something, and wasn’t some cruel joke, that the kiss in China wasn’t just a spur of the moment surprise for lack of better action, but a true act of Victor’s love. He wanted Victor to stay close to him, that’s all he wanted, even if he wasn’t going to skate with him, or against him, he just wanted Victor.

 

Reluctantly rolling from the bed he slid a box from beneath the frame, a box full of all too familiar posters and photos. He pulled out one of his all time favorites and smiled at it fondly, with the glisten of a tear in his eye before moving on to the next, and the next, contemplating if hanging them back up would raise in any flags or be in bad taste - he missed Victor, and maybe the familiar sight of walls plastered ceiling to floor with him would brefind some kind of relief. 

 

Yuuri made it through the box but realized two posters were not present, he knew his collection like the back of his hand, if not better, and there were definitely a couple missing from the box. “Must have fell out.” he mused to himself quietly, the early hours of the morning calling for silence as all employees and guests would be happily snoozing away. The gap under Yuuri’s bed was not a large one and it was hard to find a position in which one could see and grasp. Yuuri tilted his head toward the ceiling, his arm under the bed up to his shoulder and reached. He made a small triumphant noise as his hand reached something, though it didn’t feel quite like a poster, but it did feel familiar causing his curiosity and investment in the item to pique. 

 

Yuuri pulled back, removing his arm from beneath the bed, and bringing the object of his curiosity with him. He sat cross-legged on the floor and adjusted his glasses before looking down at the object in his hands. No wonder it had felt familiar in his palm. “So that’s why she was whining and scratching at my bed frame for the past several months.” Yuuri's grip on the pink, rubber bone tightened gradually as he attempted to suppress the quiver in his lip, but it was all in vain. He clutched the dog toy to his chest, holding on for dear life, resigning to a hysterical wave of sobs that promised not to let up any time soon. Sure, he had cried since Victor had been gone, plenty of times, but he hadn’t broken into the erratic, heart-stopping sobs like this since the day he left. 

 

Yuuri calmed quicker than he’d expected, and looked over to his phone on the corner of his bed. He’d been keeping his phone on Do Not Disturb since he got back from the Grand Prix Final, but he’d still kept it charged and on, and once a day like clockwork he checked his messages, looking for one contact in particular, but once a day like clockwork it wasn’t there - just a few concerned messages from Phichit and Chris that he hadn’t even properly opened, to avoid leaving them on “read”. He pulled the device from the charger and looked at the time before opening his Clock app - viewing that the current time in St. Petersburg was 21:31 - not what most would consider an  _ indecent  _ hour, but also not the the best time to call someone you haven’t been in contact with for a month.

 

Yuuri pulled up Victor’s contact, the photo of Victor and Makkachin in front of Hasetsu Castle staring at him, both stirring fond memories and rubbing salt in fresh wounds - even if he’d inflicted those wounds on himself. His hands shook, his heart beat fast, and the lump his throat throbbed at the same speeding, rythmic pace. He swallowed hard and took several shaky inhales but just as he was about to hit “Call” a knock on his door brought him back down. It was probably for the best. What would Victor think if the very person who sent him away called him to cry about how much he missed him. Yuuri was the one who did the damage - he’d made his bed and he should have to lie in it.

 

“Yuuri?” the familiar voice called. The man in question sniffled and dried his eyes, his sister was no stranger to the fact he’d been “missing Victor” and was “bummed out” - she didn’t know all the details, and she personally didn’t need them, because all the same she’d always be supportive of her baby brother. 

 

Yuuri opened the door and threw himself into Mari’s arms without a second though. His sister gently stroked the back of his head and he relaxed into the touch. Mari was really beginning to wonder if there was more to this than she originally thought - she knew how inseparable they’d been, and suddenly things weren’t adding up. From Victor leaving, to the way he left - from the way Yuuri shut down and didn’t even talk about him, why had Victor left, and why was her brother such a mess?

 

“Do I need to go kick some Russian pretty-boy’s ass?” she offered, her cheek resting against the top of his head. “I’ll do it! I’ll fly to St. Petersburg right now!” 

 

Yuuri shook his head, almost violently, into his sister’s shoulder, his grip on her tightening, and her own grip held tighter in response. “I…” Yuuri choked out, though muffled by his sister’s sweatshirt and his own tears. “I messed up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this...this is Yuuri feeling something like regret. 
> 
> You done messed up A-A-ron!
> 
> In all seriousness, I may be the one writing this, but I really need these two to hurry up and get their shit together. But that would be too easy...Suffer my babies, suffer...I promise it'll get better for you, but for now, keep crying your sweet, sweet tears. 
> 
> In other news: I really think Mari would win that fight, whether Victor was a depressed sack of shit or not.
> 
> I need help...
> 
> And a life...
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri’s cheeks reddened and his eyes overflowed, his lip quivering and his heart clenching tight in his chest. That message was the first real glimpse into Victor’s insecurities he’d been given and he’d cherished it all this time. That message was also what stirred the idea to send him away, he didn’t like knowing Victor felt insecure or remorseful. He opened his messages and found no response and it was soul crushing. He clutched his phone to his chest and gritted his teeth, trying to force back the tears.
> 
> “Victor…”

**Hasetsu - Two months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_"I've been thinking about what I should do, going forward as your coach..."_

 

A month flies by and Yuuri is beside himself as he picks up his phone at least ten times a day typing and deleting messages, both short and long, and hovering over the call button of Victor’s contact in his phone. 

 

Today is the day, he was actually going to send Victor a message - of course that’s what he’d been telling himself for the past two weeks and twenty-five rough drafts. He looked over and reworded the final draft at least eight times, and after one final scan and what felt like an eternity hovering over the send button, he finally did it. 

 

Yuuri was happy with the message he’d sent, it didn’t sound desperate or needy, it was friendly, but still got straight to the point. Even so, his heart fluttered in his chest, his skin pricked him from the inside out, and his stomach did flips. He nervously clutched at his phone, as if expecting an instant response, but after exactly forty-three minutes with no response he resigned. Yuuri took a deep breath and checked his clock app, noticing that it was still fairly early in St. Petersburg and if Victor wasn’t still asleep, (being the early bird that he was, it was unlikely) he would more than likely be at the rink. 

 

Yuuri’s general absence from his phone had come with neglect to all social media, Instagram and Twitter untouched, and his phone’s constant state of DND had prevented any notifications from coming through. 

 

He had made his leave from social media and general contact for his own good. While he didn’t like the idea of Victor in the same sorry state he was in, he didn’t think his heart could bare to see him carry about his normal life. Yuuri had imagined many a time that Victor was living on as if Yuuri had never existed, back to the way things were all those months ago before he showed up and a whisked him into a whirlwind of new experiences and cherished memories. The image plagued his dreams and even his waking thoughts, and it stung, but in his mind, it was the only way things could be. The only thing that soothed the ache of that image was knowing that Victor was happy.

 

Ignorance was bliss in a way, but Yuuri didn’t know the half of it. He didn’t know that Victor was wasting the days away on his couch clutching at cushions or sobbing into soft brown fur - he wasn’t skating, he wasn’t posting, he wasn’t living, but the lack of notifications hid that from him, and left him with the assumption Victor was doing just fine.

 

Butterflies still freely flying in his stomach, he decided to take the edge off by checking the multitude of texts, missed calls and voicemails that had piled up, most of them from none other than selfie-master, and self proclaimed mom-friend, Phichit Chulanont. Yuuri rolled his eyes at the multitude of notifications, finally opening and responding to the unread messages from Chris and Phichit with vague reassurances that everything's fine, he’s just been busy, even though he knows that neither one will buy it. 

 

Yuuri swapped to his voice mailbox, and as he expected it was full. He tapped on the most recent and slowly went down, listening to all of the brief messages. The most recent was out of character for Phichit, he sounded exasperated and serious in his concern, and he kept it brief. “Yuuri. Please call me, okay? I’m worried about you.”

 

A twinge of guilt rose in Yuuri’s stomach. Phichit had always been a good friend to him, and that’s what he was trying to be now, and he didn’t deserve to be shut out, but Yuuri just wanted to be left alone. Yuuri released a sigh and continued through the multitude of messages, which were more lighthearted the further he descended. Phichit just checking in, Phichit rambling about his hamsters, a drunk Phichit, presumably at a party if the background noise was any indicator, jokingly belting out “Baby Come Back”, extremely offkey. Yuuri’s eyes literally ached in their sockets as his eyes rolled increasingly hard, but a soft smile betrayed his exasperation - only Phichit could have twenty plus genuine, one-sided conversations with an answering machine. 

 

Yuuri kept going through the voicemails paying no mind to dates or times, and assuming he should probably clear out some older messages anyway to make room for the next hundred times Phichit called. Yuuri tapped on a message from November, paying no mind to the contact or the date, his heart constricting as the message played. Victor’s voice was all cheer and sunshine at the beginning of the message and Yuuri couldn’t help the pained, but happy smile that tugged at his lips.  

 

“Yuuri! The vet said Makkachin will be just fine. I’m so relieved! I just wanted to call and let you know so you wouldn’t mess up like at last year’s Final!”   _ Stupid Victor  _ \- Yuuri snorted in both aggravation and amusement, Victor had never been good with comforting words, and even if he meant well he was not the most tactful. “Minako is on the way with her laptop so we can watch the live stream. You’ll do great, I know you will! Ganba!!” The line went silent after his wish of good luck, but the message did not end. 

 

After a few seconds, Victor spoke again, his voice almost strained, and undeniably sullen. “I’m sorry Yuuri. I should be there with you right now. I was hoping you would have your phone so I could tell you before you got on the ice, but I didn’t call in time. I really am a terrible coach. Still, I know you’ll do well. Just get out there and surprise them the same way you surprise me.” The message was silent for several more seconds before the voicemail ended, it felt as though something was left unsaid, but now Yuuri would never know. 

 

Yuuri’s cheeks reddened and his eyes overflowed, his lip quivering and his heart clenching tight in his chest. That message was the first real glimpse into Victor’s insecurities he’d been given and he’d cherished it all this time. That message was also what stirred the idea to send him away, he didn’t like knowing Victor felt insecure or remorseful. He opened his messages and found no response and it was soul crushing. He clutched his phone to his chest and gritted his teeth, trying to force back the tears.

 

“Victor…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some sad, sentimental Yuuri - Victor's POV is coming up next, and it's not gonna be pretty. Pretty much any time you see "St. Petersburg" before a chapter, prepare yourself. Sad Yuuri I can handle for some reason, but there's something about sad Victor that just breaks my heart.
> 
> Also, just a disclaimer:  
> US law is not universal law.  
> In canon, Phichit is 20, and in real life that is the legal drinking age in Thailand - so if you're freaking out over the very brief mention of "under-aged drinking", fear not!! Phichit Chulanont is a good tater.
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of every gold Victor had received in his life, this one had the most power over him, and now it was as if it was holding him hostage, no ransom to pay or bargain to be made. He cherished his ring more than any gift he’d ever been given, and it meant so much more than any competition victory, just in being a piece of Yuuri forever tied to him. Just as Victor hadn’t been ready to part with Yuuri, he wasn’t ready to part with his ring, and as much as it silently mocked him, it couldn’t protest or send him away. The ring was content to sit like an anchor on his right hand, dragging him into a deep sea of longing, a void deeper than the Mariana Trench surrounding him in darkness and crushing him under the pressure.

**St. Petersburg - Two months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Victor, will you be my coach, until I retire?” _

_ “That sounds like a marriage proposal.” _

 

Broken promises and cancelled plans rang through his head on a daily basis. The empty apartment sent uneasy chills down his spine and the snow piling against the windows only made it colder. Victor’s existence for the past two months had been limited to his couch or bed, only occasionally venturing out for walks with Makkachin and take away food, on the rare occasion he felt like eating.

 

Feeling particularly run down and tired, from lack of proper nutrition and exercise, Victor resigned to resting on the couch, Makkachin’s head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder, the both of them nuzzled nice and warm under a particularly thick throw blanket. Just as Victor had dozed off, a chime echoed from the arm of the sofa. He reached above, lazily feeling for the technology before pulling the charger out and bringing the bright screen down to eye level and gazing with uninterested eyes. He’d figured it would be Chris, he’d been a really good shoulder for Victor through this whole thing, but right now, he just wanted to be left alone. Eyes blurry from the light snoozing it took a moment to focus, but once his eyes cleared enough to make out the contact his heart skipped a beat. 

 

Victor was convinced he was dreaming, but even with bleary eyes it was as clear as day. A message from Yuuri! Victor’s lips peeled up into a wide grin, threatening to form that fond heart-shaped smile, and his eyes were bright and sparkling with a life they hadn’t had since December, even though they remained framed by dark circles and puffy lids. He scrambled to sit up straight, disturbing the napping poodle beside him and taking a sharp inhale as his legs crossed. He was quick to unlock his phone and bring up the conversation with Yuuri, though his expression dropped just as quickly as it had elevated. The shine in Victor’s eyes became dull and the corners of his mouth quickly turned toward the floor as he read it over, once, twice, three times:

 

_ Hey Victor! Hope everything’s going well in Russia. I found one of Makkachin’s toys under my bed the other day. I was wondering if I could get your address to send it back to you. It’s the pink, rubber bone that Mari got for her. Tell everyone at the rink I said “Hi!” _

  
Victor’s stomach churned and his heart dropped, he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. He was hoping that after all this time Yuuri would at least drop the distant formality. It had taken Yuuri so long to get casual with Victor, and although they were no longer side-by-side, it twisted knots in Victor’s stomach to know he was pushed away emotionally, as well as physically. 

 

The Russian stared at his phone and worried hard at his bottom, no regard for the sensitive flesh whatsoever as he peeled at the top layer of skin, dry with minor dehydration and chapped from the cold air of his apartment. The phone shook in his hand as he reread and reread, eyes slowly blinking out tears, when he realized that no matter how many times he read it, it would remain the same.

 

After reading the message in question, what felt like one hundred times, something in Victor snapped. His brows furrowed tight, his skin burned, his eyes spilled over and his jaw clenched, causing teeth to draw a small trickle of blood from his bottom lip, as his hands shook with what he could only place as anger. He’d fought with himself about the thought of Yuuri being a liar, hadn’t dared to allow himself to think that and argued for Yuuri in his own mind.  _ People are allowed to change their minds, it happens all the time and Yuuri’s mind was not his to control _ .

 

Although Victor knew better, it didn’t make it sting any less, and if he thought about it too hard it was like twisting the knife in the wound. It would be much easier to be angry at Yuuri for lying to him and knowing he’d never wanted to stay with him in the first place, but to think he had changed his mind was too much to bare. 

 

Victor took in sharp but slow inhales, trying to calm himself, his teeth still abusing at his swollen lip and his chest tightening painfully. Victor tossed his phone without any care for its wellbeing, the technology hitting the plush rug beneath the coffee table with an audible thud, though it was obviously not hard enough to crack or shatter the screen, but honestly Victor couldn’t care less if it did. 

 

Victor curled in on himself, hugging his legs tight to his chest and burying his face in his own arms, shoulder wracked with sobs. The thud of the phone on the carpet drew his companion’s attention, her head raising again from her spot beside him on the couch. The poodle attempted to offer him consolation, nudging gently at his elbow, he wet nose leaving small marks on his sleeve as she whined. Victor looked up when he felt her pawing at his bare feet, and was quick to draw Makkachin in, holding her tight. 

 

“Why is Yuuri so cruel, Makka?” Victor mused as he rested his chin on the poodle’s head, her body now positioned as far into his folded lap as possible, head resting atop his shoulder as Victor alternated gentle strokes and tight hugs. “He’s just awful. I didn’t know he could be such a nasty person.” his breath hitched, and while he was aware that he was probably being overdramatic, he couldn’t help the way he felt. Victor thought the words would be therapeutic coming off of his tongue, but they almost hurt more than all the promises, forgotten and left behind to collect dust.

 

Victor fanned his right hand out in front of his face, staring at the back of his hand and one finger in particular, as though it had personally wronged him despite being attached to his body. He sharpy pulled it back to his chest and swifty pulled off the loosening, gold band. He balled his fist around it and raised his hand, ready to throw it across the room with a prayer that it would vanish into thin air and cause him no more pain. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm and he broke down, unable to throw it, the burn of taking it off worse than the cut of leaving it on. He held it close to his chest, both hands cupped safely around the precious metal as he choked out a few sobs and incoherent pleas in his mother tongue. 

 

His brief fit of sobs were replaced by a steady, hushed, stream of tears as he slipped the ring back on his finger, both softness and resentment in his misty eyes as he twisted it in place. Of every gold Victor had received in his life, this one had the most power over him, and now it was as if it was holding him hostage, no ransom to pay or bargain to be made. He cherished his ring more than any gift he’d ever been given, and it meant so much more than any competition victory, just in being a piece of Yuuri forever tied to him. Just as Victor hadn’t been ready to part with Yuuri, he wasn’t ready to part with his ring, and as much as it silently mocked him, it couldn’t protest or send him away. The ring was content to sit like an anchor on his right hand, dragging him into a deep sea of longing, a void deeper than the Mariana Trench surrounding him in darkness and crushing him under the pressure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....Poor Victor. Another Victor POV chapter is coming up next, and it's probably going to be a long one. Poor baby is pretty pathetic, but he's got some good friends.
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is not what I meant by ‘Get over him’!” Chris shouted from the hall entrance. Locating the two Russian’s curled up on the couch, crying, with containers of ice cream in their laps and a playlist of annoying and cliched, English breakup songs blaring through the stereo speakers. Chris stomped over to the stereo and shut it off. “Hey!” Georgi interjected. Victor looked as though the cestation of music had personally offended him and he protested quietly. “This is what Georgi suggested.”

**St. Petersburg - Three months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Don’t take your eyes off of me.” _

 

Victor laid on the couch unmoving, blank eyes on a blank ceiling, so lost in nothing that the sound of a car door slamming outside of his window startled him. A knock on the door earned a groan from the Russian, meaning that he would have to work through his self-pity to leave his cozy spot on the couch. He rolled off of the couch with an audible thud and vocalized “oof”, his ankle hitting the coffee table, a whine escaping his throat as he turned to bury his face in the soft, white faux fur of the plush rug below him. 

 

“Everything okay in there?” a voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by another knock. Victor slowly pushed himself up and made his way to the door, taking an inhale in preparation for one of the major things he’d been avoiding - socialization. 

 

Before the door is even fully open, Victor is nearly tackled into a hug, carry on bag and wheeled luggage toppling to the floor as he’s swept by the chilly wind of the outside air and a warm, familiar embrace. Chris places his hands on the other’s shoulder, pushing him out of the hug and looking him over with a stern expression. Chris’ eyes travel up and down, Victor’s lounging clothes disheveled, his hair sticking everywhere and the dark circles below his eyes prominent. Chris’ eyes don’t stop there, as a low growl of disapproval rolls from his pursed lips as he inspects the scene. The counter is covered with dishes and empty take out containers, the coffee table is no better, littered with empty ice cream pints and a nearly empty bottle of Vodka, turned on its side without a lid to be seen. 

 

Chris’ expression softens as he speaks, his familiar voice like music to Victor’s ears. “Victor, you’re better than this.” he assures, but his resolve cracked when he looked back to the heartbroken Russian, red in the face, lips pursed but still obviously quivering, and eyes bubbling with tears that had yet to fall. Chris’ expression jumps, eyes filled with shock and lips parted as if for interjection or apology, but before he could speak Victor’s forehead pressed to his sternum in a silent plea. 

 

Chris wraps his arms tightly around his friend and Victor weakly returns the embrace, adjusting his head so that the two men can be closer, his cheek resting heavily on Chris’ shoulder, dampening Chris’ coat with tears. A gentle hand found silver strands, stroking and twirling them in comforting patterns, with soft lips pressed to Victor’s hairline. 

 

Victor practically melts in Chris’ arms - the feeling is like a warm summer breeze after a never-ending blanket of snow, enveloping him and soothing his heart like ice on fresh sprain. It’s overwhelming in the best and worst of ways - curing his starved skin but also re-setting his longing for Yuuri’s specific touch. Victor craved his smell, the feeling of his soft black hair and the shine of those bright, brown eyes. Chris’ smell and hold on him was nice and familiar, but was not the one he craved, though he admitted to himself it was far more comforting than he’d expected it to be.

 

Chris pushes Victor’s messy bangs aside and presses an innocent kiss to his forehead before ruffling the rest of his silver, rat’s nest and looking down at him with a knowing, smile, full of genuine affection but laced with pity, Victor returning a weak but genuine smile at the affection. “Mon cher...You stink.” he poked light heartedly and Victor blushed and cast his eyes away, but Chris clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly before closing the front door and setting his luggage against it for a curious, and uncharacteristically apprehensive Makkachin.  “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll work on  _ this _ .” Chris lilted as he motioned to coffee table and kitchen counter with an almost defeated shrug. Victor reluctantly nodded and retreated to his room to do exactly what Chris suggested, knowing it would do him good.

 

\---

 

Chris’ expression dropped as he watched Victor shuffle away but smiled gently as Makkachin pushed at his hand with her nose, a small whine escaping her throat. The Swiss man crouched, ruffling her ears gently and accepting a lick to the jaw. “Don’t worry love, we’ll get him fixed up.” Makkachin barked in agreement as Chris retreated, placing his coat on the rack and rolling up his sleeves, looking at the messy apartment and exhaling a dejected sigh. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, aye girl?” Chris looked down, but Makkachin had already retreated, curling into a ball on the couch, causing the man to chuckle and roll his eyes, offering a disbelieving shake of his head.  “Just as hopeless as your Papa.”

Chris got to work, though it was proving to be a much easier and quicker task than he originally estimated. Cleaning was mostly reliant on throwing away containers and rinsing dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, though a few stubborn, dried-on morsels were giving him fits. Right as he was about to rage quit his ministrations to a particularly defiant plate, his phone rang in his pocket and he was quick to pull off his gloves and answer, expectant of the call which according to the clock was actually overdue.  “Sawasdee krab, mon cher!” 

Chris’s greeting received a pleased chuckle in return followed by a sweet, “ _ Bonjour _ ,  _ Thī̀rạk _ .” Chris made a flirtatious kissy noise into the phone and Phichit giggled. It was no secret that the two of them were becoming close friends, brought about in part by the situation at hand, but two sarcastic, naturally flirtatious, mom-friend’s was a dangerous combination. “ _ So. _ ” Phichit continued. “ _ How bad it is? _ ” 

Chris frowned, although he was aware his expression would not reach his friend, who was currently six hours ahead engrossed in his own version of hell. “Bad.” Chris signed before continuing, Phichit waiting for more information on the other end of the line. “He looks like he hasn’t slept, eaten or showered in days.”

“ _ Gross _ .” 

“Hey now!” 

“ _ Sorry! Keep going. _ ” 

“His apartment’s a wreck. I’ve never seen so many empty take out containers, and I’m still not convinced that whatever the hell I’ve been trying to scrape off this plate isn’t actually alive.” 

“ _ Ewwwww. _ ” 

“Chit-a, please. The poor man is devastated.” 

“ _ Yeah, yeah. Wish I could tell you it’s better here. Well, I mean it is, in a way, because it’s an Inn, and his family is taking care of him, but like, yeah. _ ” 

Chris shook his head and let out a sigh that could be heard through the phone. “If he was going to get so beat up about it, why’d he send him back out here all alone, huh? What’s the point if they’re both suffering?” 

“ _ I don’t know, man. I think our best friends might be… _ ” There was a dramatic pause from Phichit’s end, the Thai man coming back with his voice a whisper laced with feigned shock. “ _...idiots. _ ” 

Chris laughed outwardly, a true and hearty laugh as Phichit continued. 

“ _ The sheer horror! What ever will we do? How will we live?! _ ” 

Chris shook his head through his laughter, leaning back on the freshly wiped kitchen counter, twisting the cloth in his hands with his phone propped between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“ _ Toffee, I’m serious! _ ” Phichit cracked out, the smile apparent in his voice for a moment. Their laughted began dying relatively quickly, and dissipated into an uncomfortable silence.  “ _ What  _ **_are_ ** _ we going to do? _ ” 

Chris slapped his own leg with the cloth in a tapping motion. “I don’t know. It’s definitely worse than I thought. We’re going to have to be careful, regardless. But you know what they say-”

“ _ You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette? _ ” Phichit continued, a hum of agreement offered by Chris before both sighed in defeat. “ _ Well-I better get back inside before Yuuri gets too suspicious. His sister’s covering for me. She’s a gem. Really! We should come here together sometime. The Katsuki’s are ah-may-zing!”  _

Chris chuckled expressing his goodbyes with a grin on his face. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll talk to you later, mon ami.” Phichit had this power to make almost anyone at ease, his carefree, fun and positive personality infectious, even thousands of miles away through a phone speaker. 

“ _ Yeah! Talk to you later. Good luck! _ ”

“Thank you, I’ll need it. You as well!”

“ _ Thanks! _ ”

With that the phone call ended and Chris set the device on the counter sliding his hands down his face, letting out a low exasperated groan and an exhausted breath, his eyes trailing over the progress he’d made with no sense of accomplishment.

\---

 

Victor let the warmth envelop him, though the kinds of aches that plagued him didn’t seem to be soothed by a tub of steaming water. The steady drip of the faucet was calming, the small beads of warm water falling to the tub with small ripples. He rested his head on the back of the tub releasing a long, shaky breath and shutting his eyes.

When Victor opened his eyes, he found that his bathwater was cooled, room-temperature at best and the chill hit his skin with a small shiver, mixing with the cold air of the bathroom. Victor drained the tub, though he’d fallen asleep before his chance to get clean, and opted to finish up with the shower, as a bath had obviously been a bit too relaxing. 

Among other things, Victor wondered how long he’d dozed off, considering the temperature it wouldn’t have been too long, and with no Chris knocking or bardging in, it couldn’t have been been more than a few minutes. Victor was known for taking his time in getting ready, and he would monopolize on that expectation right now, allowing himself to take all the time in the world. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. After about twenty minutes of scrubbing, and standing under the hot spray, allowing it sluice over tired muscle, heavy and stiff with inactivity. Victor sighed as the tension in his shoulders practically melted away, taking in the familiar scent of his own body wash. He opted to go ahead and get out before Chris did come to check on him and it was rude to leave your guest alone, especially when they’d flown over a thousand miles to be there. At this point in Victor’s life, Chris was more like family than anything, Victor not only saw him as a best friend but, despite their age difference, as an older brother figure. Victor’s family situation wasn’t the greatest growing up, and having that type of familial connection with someone was nice.

Without even drying himself properly he threw on his plush, white bathrobe, and loosely brushed his hair back, wiping the mirror with his towel. Wow! Was that really him? Victor cringed at his own reflection, not remembering a time he’d ever looked so rough before, not even the last time he’d had the flu. Victor shook his head to clear the image, but the mirror didn’t lie, it was definitely him. With a sigh, he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out his moisturizer and under eye serum, taking the steps through his normal beauty routine that he’d neglected since returning to Russia. He brushed his teeth and combed through his hair, just to remove any leftover tangles, spraying over it with his leave-in, keratin conditioner. Victor turned to the mirror, his heart shaped smile present, but weak, for only a moment as he reveled in how amazing it felt to feel so clean and pampered after all this time. “ Udivitel'no!” 

His smile faded quickly and his eyes were lidded, small droplets of water falling from his hair to his nose as he sighed. His hands grasped at the bowl of the sink, white knuckles accentuating the gold of the ring staring back at him more than ever. He released the porcelain and brought his right ring finger to his lips, the metallic taste brief, bitter and sweet all at once. 

\---

 

Victor returned to the living room in fresh clothes, feeling surprisingly refreshed and looking the part, clean grey sweats and a loose navy sweatshirt falling from his shoulder, hair damp but smooth and untangled, and teeth sparkling from his excessive five-minute brush-gargle-rinse.

Victor stopped in his tracks when he realized that Chris was not alone, freezing as his heart did a nervous flip in his chest and his eyes widened. There, strewn over his living room, was everyone else he’d been avoiding since he’d returned to Russia - every unanswered phone call and unread text message beading to his forehead as small droplets. Victor put on his media-ready smile, forcing himself to relax from his rigid state, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. “Oh hey guys! I didn’t expect see you-” 

“Ugh! Can it Victor!” called the blonde teen, his face disgusted, as always and voice laden with irritation, legs crossed and pointed chin resting on the back of his hand. Victor stared blankly and swallowed, turning to the couch where Yakov’s stern face bore holes into him, Lilia to his left, with a snoozing brown poodle laid across her lap, Mila to his right, perched on the arm of the sofa. His eyes bounced back toward the kitchen area, where Georgi stood beside Yuri, leaned against the side of the bar with arms crossed, the same pity in his eyes Victor had seen in Mila’s just a second before. Chris was behind the counter with his elbows propped, his chin resting in his palms. “Surprise?” Chris called out with feigned excitement, overshadowed by hestance and what seemed like a hint of an apology.

Victor’s anxious expression was apparent, and something most in the room had never seen before. Yakov’s expression softened as he spoke and Victor’s eyes darted back to him, where Lilia’s hand patted the empty couch cushion beside her and Makkachin. “Sit down, Vitya.”

Yuri groaned and moaned and questioned why he was even there, earning disapproving glances from Mila and Lilia, and a rough, less-than playful nudge from Georgi’s elbow, almost knocking him from his seat. They talked about many things, but Victor would always attempt to change the subject everytime they got closer to talking about Yuuri or Japan. 

After enough complaining Mila and Georgi dragged Yuri out with the promise to return quickly. Makkachin left her spot on the couch to restlessly pace between Victor and the door, pawing at both and whining, her request to play in the snow ignored by her person who sat with eyes downcast on his own hands, folded in his lap. Victor’s ocean, blue eyes were too busy being held hostage by torturous gold. “Come on lady, let’s get some fresh air.” Chris obliged the poodle and earned an excited bark as he slipped on his coat and removed her leash from the hook.

An afternoon filled with awkward silences, Victor’s repudiation of addressing the elephant in the room, and a moody teen vocalizing his displeasure, did not make for a very fruitful “intervention”. Much to Victor’s surprise Mila had been the one nagging him to come back to the rink, rather than Yakov, and Lilia had softened significantly with her age, offering him soothing, yet distant contact. 

Victor had been skating under Yakov for a long time. Victor remembered when Yakov and Lilia had still been married, eyes always on each other and shimmering with affection, little stolen kisses and brushes of the hand when they thought no one was watching. Victor was always watching; he was a hopeless romantic, even at such a young age, and he’d always prayed to find a love like theirs some day. Victor also very vividly remembered their divorce, and how it had shaken him to his core in some way. Victor had been perplexed at how two people who seemed so in love just decided to end things - he remembered how it started by living separately and declined from there. It never truly registered with him, not even to this day as they sat together on his couch, on more than civil terms, Yakov’s left arm draped behind her and his right hand gently resting on her knee.

Victor’s attention had been drawn to the gold band around his right ring finger, his breath hitching in his throat as his dry lips parted. After what felt like hours of his own silence, Victor weakly spoke. “Yakov?”

“Da?” the older man responded, his eyes cast toward the owner of the uncharacteristically meek voice. Victor clutched his right hand close to his chest, gently caressing his own gold band with lithe fingers. He fought with himself on how to ask, and the words just didn’t want to come out. Yakov was surprisingly patient, waiting for Victor to speak. Finally, the younger Russian choked the words out, forcing back tears. “Why do you still wear your wedding ring?” 

Yakov startled at the question, a light blush covering his cheeks as a knowing glance was tossed to him by knowing, green eyes, a smirk curling on thin, glossed lips as Lilia interjected. “Yes, Yakov, why  _ do _ you still wear your ring?” Yakov stuttered for a moment, running a hand over his bare head and searching for the right words. It was silent for several moments as he sorted through his thoughts, and Victor looked up, his expression concentrated on the answer he was about to receive, once he heard Yakov clear his throat. 

“I guess it’s because of habit.” Yakov stated. Both Lilia and Victor watched him expectantly, silently asking for a better answer. Yakov groaned in protest but continued, his left hand finding Lilia’s and gently stroking circles over the back with his thumb. “When we first got divorced, I didn’t want to accept it. I kept it on in defiance, at first. The longer I left it on, the harder it became to part with. I tried to leave in a drawer and forget about it one day, but the whole day I kept looking to my finger and feeling this emptiness inside. I realized then, that not wearing it wasn’t hard because it meant our marriage was over, it was hard because that was the last piece of it I had left, and I wasn’t ready to let go.”

Lilia looked at Yakov with a soft expression, and Victor’s face looked as though he’d been struck through the heart, feeling Yakov’s words resonating deep as his coach hit the nail on the head. He was snapped out of it when Yakov continued. “It took me a while to realize that it was okay for me to feel that way. Even if we got divorced, Lilia was still special to me, and I still loved her dearly.” 

Victor was shocked to hear these words coming from his coach, unable to contain the next words that blurted out, an octave too high. “Then why?!” Yakov and Lilia both startled at Victor’s sudden outbursts, but relaxed when he continued at a more reasonable volume. “Why would split up if you were still in love?”

Lilia and Yakov shared a sympathetic expression for each other, eyes locking and lips tugged into sad smiles. This time Lilia spoke, placing a reassuring hand on Victor’s reddened cheek. “Victor.” He couldn’t control the tears that began to spill, and Lilia wiped at them with her thumb. “Part of being in love is doing what’s right for the other person.” Yakov nodded and continued. “Our careers consumed us. We could barely see each other, and when we did, we were exhausted and frustrated and usually spent what little time we had fighting.” 

Lilia nodded in agreement with Yakov, never taking her eyes from Victor and picking up where Yakov left off. “Just because two people love each other, doesn’t mean they’re good for each other. It’s easy to reach misconceptions and assume what you’re doing is best for the other person. In our case we thought it was best for the other to stay together, but we sat down and talked about it, and realized that if we’d have stayed together, we would have ended up hating each other.”

Everyone was silent for a moment but Yakov interjected with something neither of them expected, “It was hard to separate  _ because _ we love each other, but it would have been much harder to stay the way we were. I would much rather enjoy the time I spend with her now, than spend the rest of my life resenting her. Things happen for a reason, Vitya. If that boy sent you away, it was probably for the best.”

Victor crumbled under Yakov’s words, the truth setting in that maybe he was right. It was bitter sweet to think that maybe that’s how Yuuri felt, but deep down, Victor knew that no two situations were the same. 

  
  


\---

 

Mila dragged Yuri by the hood of his jacket, Georgi hot on their heels as they traveled down the sidewalk. “Let go of me, hag!” Mila stopped in her tracks and turned, her grip unfaltering on the black fabric. She glared down at him, blue eyes blazing with fire, neatly groomed brows furrowed, and lips in an obvious pout. “No.” Her hand pulled the hood up and over his head, obscuring his vision. “If you want to be mean. I’ll be mean, too.” 

The blonde slapped her hand away and pulled his hood back down, rage spreading across his features and voice raised as he fired back. “I’m not being mean! I just don’t understand why we have to sit around and watch him feel sorry for himself. The old man is stubborn. If he wants to mope, he’s going to mope. He really wanted to do something about it, he would have already!” 

Georgi’s hand met swiftly with blonde hair, an audible smack preceding pale hands reaching up to rub at the abused area. Yuri turned to Georgi with a scowl, about to speak up but Georgi shushed him with a finger. “You’re young. You don’t understand heartbreak, yet. It has nothing to do with being stubborn.” Yuri did the same to Georgi’s hand as he had to Mila’s, scuffing the sole of his shoe on the sidewalk in vexation. “It has everything to do with being stubborn!” Yuri spat, turning and walking ahead of them in the original direction they’d been headed. “If he really misses the pig that much he should just tell him.” Mila and Georgi rolled their eyes and followed after the blonde as he spoke again. “Where are we going anyway?” 

“The corner store.” Mila said, picking up the pace and walking around him. “Nothing cures a broken heart faster than ice cream and vodka.” Yuri scoffed in disapproval. “So that’s why you gained all that weight after Vlad dumped you.” Mila stopped in her tracks, holding out her foot, an unexpectant Yuri toppling to the snow-covered concrete face-first. “Oops.” she giggled, Yuri promptly stood with a growl, brushing the snow from his chest and legs. “Not cool.”

  
  


\---

 

Chris had settled into the recliner after his quick romp in the snow, with Makkachin, the later currently resting with her head in Victor’s lap and her tail swishing against Lilia. It wasn’t long before Victor’s old rink mates returned with a couple of bags, smiles on each face, excluding the blonde’s. Yuri was quick to perch himself back on the barstool and Mila and Georgi went to the kitchen to reveal their purchases. 

“Who wants a frozen Russian? It’s like a white Russian but there’s no coffee and the cream is ice cream!” Mila chimed. “Oh, and the ice cream is chocolate.” Chris shot her an inquisitive look from across the room, “So it’s literally just vodka and ice cream?” Mila nodded, Georgi gagged, and Chris waived a hand dismissively, declining the offer. “I’ll pass.”

“Victor?” Mila said, earning no response from the silver haired man across the room. “You want one?” Once again, Victor said nothing, his eyes cast down and his hands tangled in brown fur. “So that’s a ‘no’?”  Yuri turned in the stool and slammed his hands on the counter. “Jesus fucking Christ Mila! He doesn't want your nasty, Vodka ice cream!” Mila huffed and turned to the cabinets to grab a glass. “You’re just mad because you’re not old enough to have one.” 

“Yeah? Well I’m sure your fat-ass would appreciate it if you didn’t drink one either.” Yuri yelled, voice raised and words meant to cut. Mila turned, her mouth dropped open in pure offense at the teen’s sharp words. “Hey! That was-”  Mila was interrupted by Yakvo’s voice nearly echoing off the walls, booming through the apartment with practiced command. “Children! Enough!” 

Yuri bites back. “This is stupid! Why do we have to sit around and cater to this mopey bastard?” Mila slammed the ice cream container on the counter with a thud, raising her voice in return, “Stop it!” The was a low growl in Yuri’s throat as he pushed away from the counter and hopped down from the stool. “No!” The blonde stomped over the Victor, grabbing him by the chin, in the same way Victor had done to him in Barcelona. “I shouldn’t have to waste my life because you want to waste yours. If you miss babysitting the fucking pig so much, do something about it. If you’re not going to do something about it, just move on already.”

The room grew silent. Victor didn’t make eye contact with the teen and Yuri snorted in disapproval. Chris interjected with a defeated sigh. “He’s right, you know. If you won’t go to him, you need to get over him.” Yuri released Victor’s jaw and clicked his tongue. “Seriously? Pathetic.” 

Yakov’s eyes were stern on the blonde, but he didn’t falter. A sigh of resignation marked the end of Yakov’s patience as he slowly stood from his place on the couch. “I think it’s time we left.” Mila was just about to pour the vodka into her ice cream when she noticed the movement, looking up in surprise. “But Coach Yakov!” His eyes were hard on her, as they had been on Yuri, but unlike her younger counterpart she faltered, placing the lid back on the vodka and setting it down on the counter in surrender.

Yuri was quickly out the door, followed reluctantly by Mila. Georgi expressed that he was going to stay for a while and Yakov acknowledged him with a nod. Victor pulled at Yakov’s sleeve as he passed, looking up with weak eyes. “Thank you.” Victor almost whispered. Yakov huffed and gave Victor a small but affection pat to the head, an unspoken action of love and support that Victor had only felt a handful of times, but cherished each time carefully. Yakov stepped out of the apartment, yelling commands over the redhead and blonde currently fighting on Victor’s door step, but once Lilia closed the door behind them, the sounds began to fade.

\---

 

“This is  _ not _ what I meant by ‘Get over him’!” Chris shouted from the hall entrance. Locating the two Russian’s curled up on the couch, crying, with containers of ice cream in their laps and a playlist of annoying and cliched, English breakup songs blaring through the stereo speakers. Chris stomped over to the stereo and shut it off. “Hey!” Georgi interjected. Victor looked as though the cestation of music had personally offended him and he protested quietly. “This is what Georgi suggested.” 

“Victor, you don’t get over someone by listening to Taylor Swift and crying into your ice cream!” Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot, still standing by the stereo across the room. “You do it by living your life and healing with time. Do you think Yuuri’s doing this right now?” Victor’s gaze dropped to the carton in his lap, an audible sniffle the only sound in the room. 

Chris watched him carefully, noticing where his eyes had fallen, unable to hold back anymore. “Give me the ring!” Victor’s head snapped up, and Chris was able to pinpoint the exact moment Victor’s heart shattered for what felt like the thousandth time, a clear visual coming from deep within his eyes.

“No!” Victor shouted, his raised voice resonating deep within both Chris and Georgi. Chris crossed the room, moving closer to the Russian, and raised an eyebrow in question, arms crossed and feet firmly planted in front of the sofa. “Why not?! All that thing is doing is causing you pain! I’ll hand deliver it to Yuuri, myself, with a few choice words. Hand it over.”

“No!” Victor objected again as Chris held out his hand expectantly. Chris loved Victor dearly, but after his refusal to even cooperate today, he was beginning to lose his patience. The Swiss man knew what was going on nearly four-thousand miles away, and he knew both sides, and that made it all the more frustrating to watch his friend crumbling before him. Chris ran the hand he’d held out through soft golden curls with an audible groan. “No?! If you want to keep that stupid hunk of metal so bad-” 

“Yuuri gave me this ring.” Victor weakly interrupted, his voice slowly raising as tears began to fall. “It’s special! It’s all I have left of him!” Victor sobbed out, shoulders trembling and tears falling into melting ice cream. Chris softened before responding, but his words fell on deaf ears. “Honey...It’s not like he died.” 

Victor wasn’t listening to Chris and instead kept pushing forward, finally letting out the feelings he’d been building all day. “It hurts more to take it off than to leave it on. I know exactly how Yakov felt, everything he described was so right! If I take it off - If I tossed it out or threw it away, I couldn’t live with mysel-”

“Victor! You are  _ not _ living!” Chris fought back, earning a shocked look from Victor, the sobs stopped and were replaced by a steady trickle of tears. “At this point you can’t even live without Yuuri. Life shouldn’t be this way! You can’t sit on the couch and wait to die just because you  _ think _ Yuuri doesn’t want you. You can’t cling to something that brings you pain like this Victor. It’s not okay!” 

“I know!” Victor shouted, the tears falling faster as he dropped his head once more and lowered his voice to whisper as he repeated himself, clutching his right hand tight and close to his heart. “I know…” 

Georgi’s hand began to trace gentle circles on his back, and Chris dropped down in front of him, mimicking the same motions on Victor’s knees, after removing the carton in his lap and setting it on the table. “Then do something about it. If you really can’t live without him, tell him that.” Chris nearly cooed, the tone in their discussion taking a one-hundred and eighty degree turn.

“I can’t - I’m scared.” Chris and Georgi were shocked at Victor’s admission. “Mon ami-” Chris attempted to soothe, but was promptly interpreted as Victor continued. “If he doesn’t feel the same way, he’ll reject me, and then I’ll have go through this all over again. I can’t do it. It hurts to much. If I stay like this, I can pretend that he sent me away because he loves me, but if I try to reach out to him, and he tells me he doesn’t, I don’t think I could take it.” Victor’s breathing was uneven and his sobs were heavy, the clutching in his chest almost unbearable as his words came out in small hiccups.

Victor buried his face in his hands and Georgi and Chris share a knowing look before Chris speaks up, his voice reassuring and sweet. “I  _ know _ . But sometimes, the scariest things turn out to be our greatest accomplishments.” Georgi decided to butt in, trying to offer some valuable comfort. “I remember when you were trembling in the corner over learning how to do a quad flip, it scared the hell out of you, and now it’s your signature move. How is this any different?” Chris chuckled. “Georgi, it’s quite different. Physical wounds heal much easier. You of all people should know that - how many break ups have you been through?” 

Georgi huffed but offered a self depreciating chuckle. “I guess I’m just used to it by now, but Victor’s never really been through something like this. He’s always been a hopeless romantic, even when we were children. I never worried about him though because he was too focused on skating to take a real interest in someone. The way he and Yuuri were so close, I didn’t really see this coming at all, so I didn’t thinking we’d be doing this right now, or I could have prepared.” 

Chris chuckled and gave a light shake to Victor’s knees. The Russia looked up through silver bangs and lashes heavy with tears. “It’s going to be okay, mon ami. I promise.” Victor sniffled and offered a hint of a smile in return of Chris’ lighthearted and genuine expression. “What do you need from us?” 

Victor wiped his eyes on his sleeve, a few more sniffs permeating the air as Chris and Georgi waited patiently for their instructions. Victor turned his attention to Georgi, who smiled and then back to Chris, his lips upturned if only the slightest. “The break up music and ice cream helped a little.” The Swiss man rolled his eyes and patted his friends on the knee. “Whatever you say.” He made his way to the stereo clicking it on and made his way to the kitchen. before walking over to the couch. “Scoot.” he demanded, ushering Victor to move toward the center of the couch. He handed Victor his spoon and placed the carton back on his lap, digging in a spoon of his own. The two traded warm smiles and Victor rests his head on Chris’ shoulder, his small “thank you” a whisper under Georgi’s passionate lyrics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long...Operation 'omelet du fromage' is a go!
> 
> Sawasdee krab - Hello (Thai)  
> Bonjour - Hello (French)  
> Mon cher - My dear (French)  
> Thī̀rạk - My dear (Thai)  
> Mon ami - My love (French)  
> Udivitel'no - Amazing (Russian)  
> Da - Yes (Russian)
> 
> Chit-a and Toffee are just some super cute nicknames, that I decided Chris and Phichit call each other. They’re really flirty and informal. Obviously Toffee comes from Chris-TOPHE, and works well because Chris is sweet like candy - at least dat ass is. Chit-a, pronounced like Cheetah, stuck in part to Phichit being feisty and a fast talker, but originated after the Cup of China, where Phichit had been religiously eating Cheetos Leo snuck him from America. (I have the weirdest headcanons, but I will go down with Phichit being addicted to cheetos and you can’t change my mind.)
> 
> Yakov x Lilia...I ship it. I want them to be that divorced couple who gets back together, just doesn’t like officially get remarried but is totally in love and doing all the things together again. If that wasn’t obvious.
> 
> Once again - Age of legal alcohol consumption in Russia is 18 - so Mila is not partaking in underage drinking...Not to mention she didn’t even get to. Yuri Plisetsky ruins everything. That should be a tag. It is now
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! I know!” Yuuri breathed in, wiping his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his sweater. “I wonder all the time if I made the wrong choice. I’ve never been confident in my decisions, you know that! I just didn’t want to keep Victor from skating. I didn’t want to hold him back. My time with him was so precious and far more than I ever thought I’d get. I thought that I could be happy with that, but I’m not!” Yuuri’s shoulder wracked with his sobs and he practically threw himself at Phichit, his tears soaking the other man’s shoulder and his fingers gripping tightly at green fabric. “I want more! I miss him every day. I constantly wonder what he’s doing, and how he is, and if he thinks about me. It hurts because, every time, my mind tells me that he’s living his life as it was before I ever came into the picture, and that he’s just fine and that he doesn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! This has over 600 hits??? (ಥ﹏ಥ)  
> Thank so much to everyone who’s reading! I really hope you’re enjoying the story so far, and if you’re holding out until it’s done, (that’s probably a stretch to assume), I hope you enjoy it once you’ve read it. I’ve got another fic to post once this done, that I actually wrote and completed before this one, and another one to finish, that will be posted as a one-shot, to be read on it’s own, or as a palate cleanser for this monstrosity. Thank you again so much everyone who’s read / is reading, it means so much to me, and I’m really enjoying writing this! ♥

**Hasetsu - Three months after the Grand Prix Final**

  
“ _ I won’t go easy on you. That’s my way of showing my love. _ ”

  
  


Phichit practically ran into the inn, dropping his luggage and kicking his shoes off at the door before throwing his arms around Mari, who was stationed at the front desk - as if it were a homecoming for him. “Mari! Hey!” Mari chuckled and returned the hug. “Hey kiddo. How was the flight?” Mari pitched. “It was alright, a lot better than some of the flights I had this last season. I just get antsy sitting still for so long.”  Mari gave a gentle pat to the head of the wriggling frame in her hold, knowing laughter leaving her lips as she trained her eyes on his shuffling feet. “I can tell.” 

  
Phichit pulled away from the embrace and shot her a dazzling smile. “So where’s Yuuri?”

 

\---

 

Yuuri laid restless in his bed, covers pulled high and face half-buried in his pillow. Aside from skating, sleeping was his favorite activity, but he hadn’t skated since the Grand Prix Final, and after twelve straight hours of light snoozing and heavy tossing per night, he’d surrendered. He had given up all hope of sleep, opting to lie under the false darkness of his bed sheets and feel sorry for himself - he had gotten very good at it. 

 

A knock on the door made him groan, pulling the pillow over his ears in an attempt to stifle the noise and ignore whoever the offender was. If it was his mother or Mari in desperate need of some help, they would just shout for him from down the hall. The knocks didn’t stop and instead got louder, the fist pounding on the door was unrelenting. It was very out of character for any of his family to do something like that, but the knocking did seem familiar, somehow, and Yuuri wracked his brain for an answer.  _ “I haven’t heard knocking like that since Detroi-” _

 

Yuuri couldn’t even finish his thought before he hopped out of bed at the same time the door was flung open with declaration. “I’m respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your best friend by coming in anyway!” Even without his glasses, Yuuri could recognize the younger man in his doorway, but before he had a chance to react, the blurry figure pounced on him, knocking them both to the floor with a loud thud. Yuuri choked out a surprised squeak as he was tackled to the floor, the impact searing on his tailbone. Yuuri stammered with surprise as he spoke, “P-Phitchit! Wha-What are you doing here?” 

 

“I came to see you, silly!” Phichit exclaimed as he nuzzled into Yuuri’s chest, their legs in a tangled mass and his folded arms creating some support around Yuuri’s neck. “Are you surprised?” Yuuri weakly nodded and Phichit watched him for a moment before nuzzling  into Yuuri’s neck, holding him tight so that he couldn’t squirm away, earning a fit of ticklish giggles from the older man below him. 

 

“Ph-Phichit! S-Stop it! Oh my god!” Yuuri laughed through his protest, pushing against Phichit’s forehead with the palms of his hands in an attempt to save himself from the intrusive, but surprisingly welcome, affections. The loud laughter and impromptu wrestling match, built from Yuuri’s rejection of Phichit’s overly-affectionate ministrations was promptly shut down by an unamused Mari at the door. “If this is the kind of stuff you two got up to in Detroit, I feel sorry for your downstairs neighbors.” Mari’s face was stern, her finger tapping on the door frame, and her other hand resting on a cocked hip, in a disapproving stance. “Knock it off. You’re concerning the guests.” 

 

“Yeah. Sorry.” Phichit and Yuuri both nodded, untangling themselves and offering shallow, apologetic bows. Mari narrowed her eyes in accusation, but couldn’t stop the smirk that played onto her lips as she turned to walk back down the hall. “Come down and have some lunch. I’ll put you down for two Katsudon.” she said with a wave as she slowly disappeared, descending the stairs.

 

\---

 

Phichit was warmly welcomed to Yu-Topia as one of the family, cutting up with both the Katsuki’s and the guests, his presence so sure it was as if he’d belonged there all his life. All of his offers to help out were declined and he and Yuuri were made to sit among the dining tables, Phichit keeping things lively for everyone nearby. Much to Phichit’s surprise, Yuuri had seemed to be doing alright, but he was virtually unaware of the effect his company had on people, his smile, laughter and overall mood infectious, and unavoidable.

 

Yuuri was glad to see Phichit, even if he truly hated surprises of the nature, and the other man’s laughter and smile put a genuine grin on his face. He hadn’t realized how much he missed time like this with Phichit, the two of them were so busy after parting ways that he hadn’t had much to remind him other than blurry memories hazed by blocked out finals and missed podiums. Yuuri asked Phichit questions about Bangkok. Prying ears earned the Thai man a whole new conversation with a regular guest who traveled for both business and pleasure. Yuuri watched Phichit’s eyes sparkle as he explained every wonder of Thailand, smiling bigger with each attraction and landmark he listed off. 

 

Lunch went by at leisurely pace, Phichit devouring the food in front of him as if he hadn’t eaten in days, eyes alight with pleasure. “Wow, Yuuri! Your mom’s such a good cook! These are way better than those makeshift pork cutlet bowls you tried to make back in Detroit.” Yuuri rolled his eyes, there was no point in being offended, because he knew Phichit was right. Poorly breaded pork chops, pan fried in an electric skillet, over boil-in-bag rice with soy sauce and dry eggs had not been the height of their culinary endeavors, but the phat si-io made with over-cooked noodles and pre-mixed stir fry veggies also left something to be desired. 

 

Yuuri smiled at the fond memories and picked at the last bit of rice in bowl, looking up to find Phichit with elbows propped, and eyes locked on him with determination. Yuuri felt an uncomfortable jolt in his spine, returning his gaze to the bowl, wasting no time in reprimanding his friend, “Don’t stare like that. It’s creepy.” Phichi’s familiar laughed echoed through his ears and down to his heart, his smile returning quickly as he gazed from the corner of his eye to find his friend still looking in his direction. Phichit’s gaze had softened, a dreamy and nostalgic look taking over. 

 

“This is nice.” Phichit mused. Yuuri offered a nod of agreement, the grin tugging at his lips almost painful after so much time spent sulking, but not unwanted. “Hey, Yuuri?” Brown eyes met gray, and Yuuri nodded for his friend to go on, as he popped a bite of rice in his mouth. “Will you show me how to do a quad flip?” Yuuri almost choked, quickly sipping his water in an attempt to dislodge the rogue rice attempting to find its way to his lungs, so he could answer his friend with another question. “ _ What?! _ ” 

 

Phichit laughed at his friend’s reaction, almost certain that his head was spinning underneath it all. “Yeah!” Yuuri wiped his mouth, his brows furrowed in obvious distress, but Phichit continued. “It’ll be fun! Just like old times, right? Plus I haven’t seen the rink you skate at! Oh, and I want to meet Yuko and the triplets too! Give me a day in the life of Yuuri!” Yuuri dropped his head, all traces of a smile fading from his features, and Phichit’s expression followed suit, predicting the next words that would come out of his mouth. 

 

“I-” Yuuri piped up. Phichit gave him his undivided attention, but Yuuri kept his eyes fixed on his lap, a white-knuckle grip at the fabric of his sweatpants. “I haven’t really skated since-” Yuuri trailed off, choking on his words and unable to continue. “Oh.” Phichit mused, a pout tugging on his lips as he rested his cheeks in his hands, elbows on the table, and eyes rolling away from Yuuri, not in defiance but in thought.

 

“I mean-” Phichit paused as soon as he started, trying to find the right way word it. “That doesn’t mean you can’t.” Yuuri looked up, his friend’s expression distant, the one he usually wore when scheming something potentially illegal or dangerous or- “Phichit-” 

 

Yuuri started, but was promptly interrupted as the younger man practically threw himself on top of him, arms locked tight around Yuuri’s waist as Phichit’s legs flailed and he cried out with an immature wail. “Yuuri! Skate with me! Don’t worry about the quad flip! We can just mess around! I miss you! It’ll be fun! I promise! I won’t embarrass you or anything!” 

 

Yuuri pulled at Phichit’s shirt trying to remove the man from him, fighting back, red in the face. “You’re already embarrassing me! Knock it off!” Phichit continued to kick and refused to let go. “I’ll let go if you say ‘yes’.” he called through puffed cheeks, his voice muffled, his mouth pressed to Yuuri’s clothed stomach. “Okay! Okay! I’ll skate with you! Just get off of me, please?” Phichit and Yuuri both chuckled as the Thai man removed himself from his friend’s lap, however Phichit froze instantly when Yuuri continued. “Geez! You’re worse than Victor.” 

 

Phichit swallowed the lump in his throat, waiting with an intent gaze for something to snap and for Yuuri to start crying, but it didn’t happen. Yuuri looked up and concern washed over him. “Phichit, is everything okay?!” Phichit snapped out of it, waiving his hands in front of him dismissively. “Oh! Yeah, it’s nothing.” Yuuri raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in mood, an unspoken, ‘You sure?’ falling between them. “Promise!” Phichit added. 

 

Yuuri gazed at the other with suspicion as he turned to collect their bowls to return them to the kitchen. Just as quickly as he stood, the bowls were ripped from his hands and replaced with his skate bag, a smiling Mari looming over him. “Have fun, squirt.” Yuuri groaned as she playfully ruffled his hair and Phichit gasped. “Oh, there’s no way he’s going dressed like _ that _ .” 

 

Phichit’s hands pushed at Yuuri’s shoulders, guiding him to his room and rushing him to change quickly, practically bouncing on the bed in anticipation. Yuuri’s arms were barely through his sleeves when Phichit’s hands found his wrist, their skate bags already slung over his shoulder, and dragged him through the Inn. “Bye mom and dad!” Phichit said with a waive and Hiroko called back, her voice bright and nurturing. “You two be careful! Oh, and have fun!” 

 

“You’re already calling them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’?” Yuuri poked, but did not receive a response. Phichit’s feet where in his shoes faster than Yuuri could blink, and the younger man was practically out the door by the time Hiroko’s words reached his ears, Yuuri in tow. “We will! Don’t wait up!” 

 

\---

 

The walk - or more so drag - to the rink was quick and pleasant, though Yuuri was dreading getting back on the ice after so much time away. Phichit asked questions about everything they passed that piqued his curiosity and Yuuri obliged. Yuuri smiled at the sparkle in Phichit’s eyes, although most of the explanations and details were lackluster - Phichit was truly an amazing person to Yuuri, able to find the beauty in everything, no matter how small. 

 

Phichit flung the door to the rink open with fervor, announcing their arrival as if they were royalty. “I present to you, Phichit Chulanont of Thailand, self-proclaimed best friend and dragger of top figure skater Katsuki Yuuri. Please, hold your applause. We’ll be happy to sign autographs once the skate is over.” Phichit’s enthusiasm was met with an empty lobby, and a distant, sarcastic “Whoo.” from deep within the rental skate shelves, behind the counter. Takeshi’s head poked out from the shelves and he made his way around the counter, chuckling as he approached them. “Bout time, Mr. Top Figure Skater.”

 

Yuuri’s face turned a bright shade of red and he smacked it with a flat palm, hiding it from view. Yuuri was stuck in a headlock by the younger skater, and weakly groaned out his plea. “You promised  _ not  _ to embarrass me, remember?” 

 

Takeshi patted Yuuri’s back in a comforting and friendly manner, a smile on his face. “Oh relax, it’s just me, Yuko and the girls today! Phichit wanted to make sure the two of you could skate undisturbed.” Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, before his whole body went rigid and his face burst into shock. “Wait?! You knew he was coming?” 

 

Phichit released Yuuri and moved to Takeshi’s side and the two of them nodded, the prior offering his hand for a crisp high-five, which the older man obliged, as continued. “Sure did. Poor guy’s been worried sick about you. He’s been planning this for the past month.” Takeshi slapped Yuuri’s back again, harder this time, with force meant to inflict a small, but harmless, amount of pain. Yuuri stuttered for a moment and was quickly pulled into another headlock, Takeshi’s cheek practically on his own, voice accusing. “Wasn’t hard to keep the secret considering we never see you anymore. Where the hell have you been, huh?”

 

Yuuri continues to sputter nervously, h e was never one for confrontation, and after avoiding people for so long it was a commitment to avoid them for the rest of his life or face the music eventually. “In bed.” Phichit quickly interjected, answering for his friends who was currently struggling to find words. “Moping.” Yuuri spoke up in a plea for his friend to cut it out. “Phichit!” 

 

“What?! I’m not wrong. Yuuri! Tell me I’m wrong.” Phichit almost spat back, the sassy glaze in his eyes deep with certainty and his arms crossed in displeasure. Yuuri dropped his gaze to the floor without saying a word and Takeshi released him, the hand which had previously caused pain, rubbing soothingly back and forth over the same area. 

 

\---

 

Just as Yuuri had figured, being back on the ice was bitter sweet. He loved the sound of steel cutting through ice, it was familiar and soothing, but his feet were out of practice and his heart clenched as he remembered the counted days he’d spent on this same ice with Victor by his side. 

 

Yuuri toppled over on the ice, pushing himself up with an ungloved hand, the burn of the ice against his skin, and the chill of the cold metal band around his right ring finger nostalgic. His chocolate eyes gazed longingly at the ring, tears threatening to spill, the sting of his cheeks heating in the cold air yet another twist of the knife in his chest. The tears burned their way out onto frozen cheeks and Yuuri sniffled quietly. 

 

“You okay?! You’re not hurt right?” Phichit called out, skating over and kneeling by his friend. Yuuri sat up, pulling his hand to his chest and rubbing at gold with chilled fingers. “No.” Yuuri choked out. “I just-” Phichit waited, but Yuuri didn’t finish the thought, only speaking up to dismiss himself. “It’s nothing.” 

 

Phichit pulled him up and brushed the ice shavings from his knees before pushing him over to the boards. “How about you rest for a second.” Yuuri nodded and Phichit waited a moment before continuing. “Can I show you something?” Yuuri looked up and Phichit’s eyes were uncertain, despite the mischievous glint in his eyes. Yuuri returned a weak smile, no words needed, and Phichit practically jumped in place, leaving the ice and putting his guards on quickly. “I’ll go grab my phone!”

 

\---

 

Yuuri remained at the boards waiting for Phichit, his eyes fixated on his ring, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Yuuri was broken from his silence by a familiar voice. “So.” Takeshi leaned on the opposite side of the boards, to Yuuri’s right, not far from him. The older man’s eyes focused in on the same spot as Yuuri’s, a gleam of judgement behind them, though Yuuri would not meet his gaze. “Why are you still wearing that thing?” 

 

Yuuri snapped his head up, the look on his face could only express that he was offended by the question. He looked as though someone had slapped him or insulted his mother, and it was not the response Takeshi was expecting. Takashi straightened, grasping the boards, a look of surprise taking over his features, with a hint of regret. 

 

Yuuri could feel his brows knitted in distress, his eyes burning with unshed tears, and his ears and cheeks running hot with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. As childhood friends, particularly ones who didn’t get along at first, these kind of awkwardly silent standoffs were nothing new, but in the time that had passed it felt like something ancient and forgotten with time brought back to life.

 

Takeshi sighed when he realized that Yuuri wasn’t going to say anything. He watched as the younger man swallowed the lump in his throat, and Takeshi swallowed his own as he recognized the defeated look in Yuuri’s eyes all too well. There was so much he wanted to say but, unlike when they’d been much younger, he didn’t want to push his buttons and force him over the edge. Takeshi rubbed at the back of his neck, sighing with his own loss as he resigned to try his best to say what need to be said. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. Okay?” 

 

Takeshi looked at Yuuri but didn’t receive a response, just the same dejected stare. “You’re the one who ended things with Victor. From what I understand, he wasn’t too happy about it himself. Even tried to put up a fight back in Barcelona, if what Phichit says is true. If you didn’t want him to leave, I’m pretty sure you could have changed your mind at the last minute and he’d have been more than content to stay. Not many people would pick up leave the only home they’ve ever known to move to an unfamiliar country, let alone for someone else.” 

 

Takeshi avoided direct eye contact, glancing from the corner of his eyes to notice Yuuri, stark still, just as he’d been when he began. He pushed off and tapped the top of the boards, turning away when he realized that Yuuri was as immovable as stone. Offering a final word of unrequested advice as he walked toward the lobby. “You know, usually when you break things off with someone you throw out the things that remind you of them. Makes things a little easier.” 

 

Yuuri felt his heart fold under the pressure in his chest, the tears spilling over and a sharp inhale hitching his shoulders. He knew that Takeshi meant well, so he wasn’t angry with him, but he angry with himself. Everything Takeshi had said was true, and being reminded was not something that Yuuri was fond of. Yuuri stretched his arms above his head, hand on the boards and face cast toward the ice, allowing the tears to flow freely and the sobs to choke from his throat. 

 

Whether or not he’d get it together before Phichit came back didn’t even matter, in that moment.

 

\---

 

Yuuri was able to get his breakdown under control before Phichit returned, Yuko and the triplets hot on his heels. Yuko ran to the rink boards, throwing her arms around Yuuri’s neck in a tight and welcoming embrace. “Hey stranger, long time not see.” Yuuri smiled fondly, halfheartedly returning the hug before turning his attention to the audio booth. Phichit fussed with the aux cord, while the triplets laughed beside him in delight, all sorts of questions spilling from their lips, which Phichit answered with a smile, despite his obvious frustration with the simple technology. The Thai man was naturally gifted with phones and computers, but he was a mess when it came to anything that didn’t sync via Bluetooth. 

 

The shrill sound of feedback echoed over the ice. Yuko, Yuuri and the triplets all covered their ears with an audible groan, looking at Phichit with displeased expressions. Phichit cringed inwardly on himself, a bashful smile playing on his lips and bright red tinting his tanned cheeks. Embarrassment was not a common emotion for Phichit to wear, as a man of little shame, but even he had to admit that it was pretty pathetic he couldn’t use an aux cord properly. 

 

Axel tore the phone and cord from his hand, plugging it up correctly and hitting the buttons she’d been instructed to, as Lutz and Loop ushered Phichit out to the ice. Whatever he was planning, they either already knew or couldn’t wait to find out. Phichit skated to center and took an oddly familiar stance, thought Yuuri couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. “Alright, be gentle! I haven’t got to practice it too much, and it’s a surprise for someone.” 

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, knowing that every time Phichit said he ‘hasn’t practiced too much’ he’s actually practically perfected it. A horrified look takes over his face as an eerily familiar tune plays over the loudspeaker. “No.” Yuuri shook his head, disbelief quickly overcome by outrageous fits of laughter as Phichit smacked and squeezed his own ass with both hands. “No way!” Yuuri was grasping desperately at his sides, praying for release from the pain. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time, and it was well needed. 

 

The final notes rang out, and Phichit pouted, stomping his blade into the ice as he saw Yuuri wiping a tear from his eye, billowing with laughter and curled in on himself. “Hey! Don’t laugh. That was a serious performance.” Phichit whined. “You honestly expect me to that seriously?” Yuuri mocked. “Have you  _ met _ Chris?” 

 

Phichit gasped in well-feigned offense. “Yuuri!” Yuuri finally relented and allowed himself to fall to the ice, the cool surface soothing to his red-hot cheek. “What so funny?!” Yuuri could barely respond through his laughter, each word coming out in sharp exhales. “I-It’s-It’s just-” Phichit growled, balling his fists, he was good at playing pissed off, even if inside he wanted to laugh just as much as Yuuri. Yuuri finally continued, sitting up and wiping another tear away. “You look ridiculous.” 

 

“Yeah?! Well, you landed a hot, European boyfriend slash coach by skating  _ his _ routine. And you were fat then. I’ve never been fitter. Don’t crush my dreams!” Yuuri paused through his laughter, completely ignoring the mention of Victor. “Hey! I wasn’t fat. I was just-okay I was fat. But wait-You-You and Chris?” 

 

Phichit rubbed his neck, eyes cast toward the ice as his blush climbed his neck, cheeks and ears. “Well, I mean-I don’t know.” Phichit chuckled and smiled, still avoiding Yuuri’s gaze, but returning to his shameless self as he continued. “We’ve been talking a lot since the Cup of China and he’s really cool. I don’t know if he’s interested in me like that but he’s a really good friend - I thought it might make him smile.” 

 

Yuuri smiled sweetly at his friend at the exact moment he finally made eye contact again, unspoken words hiding behind Phichit’s dazzling expression. “And?” Yuuri questioned, an eyebrow raised, knowing that there was more to Phichit’s scheme. Phichit’s expression was deadpan, serious, despite the gleam of mischief in his eyes, and his tone came out far more solemn than necessary. “And he has a cute butt. I want to touch it Yuuri. I want to touch the butt.” 

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes so hard he swore they’d disappear into the sockets and turned on the ice as though he was going to stand but instead began hitting his head rhythmically against the boards. “I hate  _ everything _ about you.” Phichit gave a hearty laugh. He’d missed this Yuuri and all of the cutting up they’d done back in Detroit, and it warmed his heart to know he was seemingly okay, minimal moping aside. His voice rang through the rink, a happy chime. “But you love me, though!” Yuuri waived him off as they laughed together, Yuuri’s forehead pressed to the board and Phichit’s hands resting on his knees to avoid any slips or falls.

 

The performance from Phichit had marked enough for the day and once they’d recovered from their laughter, turned unstoppable fit of giggles, they left the ice. Phichit retrieved his phone and Yuuri gathered their remaining items from the bench. Once their skates were off and packed up they prepared to make their leave, exiting the rink with waves to Takeshi and the girls. Yuko came forward to the counter calling out as they left, saying that she’d see them in a bit. Yuuri waived it off, unaware that the Nisigori family would be coming to dinner at the Inn.

  
  


\---

 

There was a heavy shift as they left the rink, but Phichit had originally dismissed it, opting for the thought that he was probably just tired from skating after such a long break. Yuuri was silent the whole way home, almost in a daze with eyes cast down. The two men went straight from the entrance of the Inn to the bath, melting into the hot spring to soothe tired and frozen muscles. They relaxed with audible sighs, the only two present at that moment, and Phichit was monopolized that by taking up as much space as he could. Yuuri, on the other hand, shrunk in on himself, making himself as small as possible in the corner of the bath.

 

Phichit didn’t press, that wasn’t part of the plan, but Yuuri’s increasingly devolving mood was weighing heavy on him. Phichit threw on a set of green guest robes and Yuuri changed into his normal lounging clothes, not a word shared between them, at first. “Wanna watch some TV? I heard one of the guests say there was a soccer match airing soon.” Yuuri shook his head, a damp white towel obscuring his eyes. “I just kind of wanna be alone for a bit.” 

 

“Whatever floats your boat, man. I’m here if you need me.” Phichit confirmed and Yuuri offered him a weak nod. Phichit was surprised to feel Yuuri’s weight on him, the older man’s forehead resting in his neck as he whispered a thank you in Phichit’s native tongue. Phichit brought up a hand to gently pet at unruly black tufts, his other hand gently stroking Yuuri’s back as he could feel the other man begin to tremble. 

 

Phichit thought carefully before he spoke, lost in his inability to stomach Yuuri’s sorrow. “You wanna talk about it?” Yuuri nodded into tan skin and Phichit smiled at him with pity before leading him toward his room. 

 

\---

 

They sat on the floor, backs rested against Yuuri’s bed, Phichit’s arms around Yuuri and Yuuri practically dissolving into the comforting hold. Phichit’s cheek rested on Yuuri’s head, eyes unseen by Yuuri screwing shut as he swallowed hard and prayed for forgiveness, a silent apology for what he was about to do. 

 

Phichit took a deep breath, the comforting rock earning a comforted sigh from the Japanese man against him, making what he was about to say hit him even heard, his gut churning with impending guilt. “Why are you still wearing your ring?” Yuuri’s frame froze stark still in Phichit’s hold, eyes cast on the gold band, and teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

 

Yuuri didn’t answer, just as Phichit had expected, meaning he’d have to continue with harsher words to get the reaction he was aiming for. “If you sent him away, doesn’t that mean you’re over?” Yuuri did not respond, however he did raise his head from Phichit’s shoulder looking him in the eyes, chocolate brown tinted with hurt and disbelief. Phichit held firm, eyes serious on Yuuri as the next words out of his mouth cut the both of them. “I bet Victor’s not wearing his.” 

 

The tears came faster than expected, trailing down Yuuri’s’ face at an alarming pace, the streams falling from eyes which were wide with shock. Phichit panicked and to Yuuri it was like the Cup of China all over again. Phichit’s expression melted, distress taking over his face as he spoke with a comforting voice, his hands gently resting on Yuuri’s shoulders, a soft touch meant to soothe.

 

The plan was out the window, as Phichit’s heart shattered for his best friend. It was his plan in the first place, but he was weak, he knew he didn’t like to see Yuuri’s tears but he forced them out anyway. “Yuuri, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that! I just made that up! I bet he is still wearing it! I don’t know what I was thinking.” Phichit knew that Victor was indeed still wearing his ring. “I was just saying those-” 

  
“I know! I know!” Yuuri breathed in, wiping his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his sweater. “I wonder all the time if I made the wrong choice. I’ve never been confident in my decisions, you know that! I just didn’t want to keep Victor from skating. I didn’t want to hold him back. My time with him was so precious and far more than I ever thought I’d get. I thought that I could be happy with that, but I’m not!” Yuuri’s shoulder wracked with his sobs and he practically threw himself at Phichit, his tears soaking the other man’s shoulder and his fingers gripping tightly at green fabric. “I want more! I miss him every day. I constantly wonder what he’s doing, and how he is, and if he thinks about me. It hurts because, every time, my mind tells me that he’s living his life as it was before I ever came into the picture, and that he’s just fine and that he doesn’t.”    
  
“Yu-” Phichit attempted to interrupt, but Yuuri still had more to say. 

 

“I just can’t bear the thought of being without him, but I can’t bear the thought of keeping him to myself either. I just don’t know what to do.” Phichit held Yuuri tight and slowly moved them back to their previous position, tanned fingers stroking gently through black. Yuuri accepted the touch and continued to cry on to Phichit’s shoulder until there were no tears left, eyes puffy and blurred. Phichit wore the damp shoulder with pride, refusing to release his friend from their embrace.

 

\---

 

Mari had called them down for dinner and Phichit was elated to see that the Nishigori family and Minako were all present. Phichit caught Minako in a hug, which she happily returned, feeling quite familiar with each other after the group dinner in Barcelona. Any family or friend of Yuuri’s was family of his. Everyone crowded the dining tables, Phichit showing the triplets and Minako photos of his home town in Thailand and sharing stirring tales the culture, street food, festivities and so on, the four of them enthralled and eager to hear more.

 

Yuko and Takeshi spoke with Mari and Hiroko, filling them in on the latest news about their parents, and any juicy gossip from town worth sharing. Toshiya chatted with some of the regulars about the soccer match that had broadcast earlier, exchanging celebratory cheers over Sagan Tosu’s victory. Despite being locked in his own conversation, Phichit found himself constantly glancing in Yuuri’s direction. 

 

Yuuri picked at his food with his chopsticks, eyes still swollen and cheek propped on his hand. Yuuri hadn’t said a word since the earlier breakdown, and Phichit hadn’t pressured him to do so, much to Yuuri’s appreciation. He looked at his ring as he shuffled the food on his plate, refusing to make eye contact with anyone and trying his best to go unnoticed, a silent prayer to vanish into thin air weighing heavy on his mind.

 

Phichit stood from the table, excusing himself, and shot a look at Mari, the latter nodding in silent agreement as he exited the dining area. Yuuri lifted his head, watching his friend leave the room with piqued curiosity. Even without looking up from his food, he could tell that Phichit was having a great time, and the only time he’d seen Phichit excuse himself while there was still food on his plate he’d been sick. Yuuri shrugged it off and reminded himself that people excused themselves all the time, before he turned his attention back to his food, continuing to poke at it rather than eating it.

 

\---

 

Phichit slipped out onto the wrap-around porch with a refreshing stretch, breathing in the chilly air. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up Chris’ contact, smiling at the photo on the screen as he hit the call button. 

 

Phichit’s heart soared when Chris greeted him in his native tongue and he couldn’t stifle the giggle bubbling in his throat, his face heating up in contrast to the cold air around him. The two men touched base on their luck so far, which was falling short, more so for Chris. Phichit had been able to spend the day skating with Yuuri, while Chris was apparently stuck doing dishes alone. 

 

The two had made a plan, and this was part of it: let them break down on their own, break them down by force, then comfort them and ride it out, hoping for the best. ( Or, as Phichit had originally explained  - Step one: Let them cry. Step two: Make them cry. Step 3: Profit. ) Chris was wary about that plan, but in the end, it had been Phichit who had the most trouble sticking to it, his own heart breaking when he cut at his friend’s with painful words.

 

Phichit flailed in the open air, although the other man could not see him, dramatic pauses throughout his sarcastic lament about their best friends being totally oblivious morons. Talking to Chris was easy and, even in these circumstances, fun. His phone conversations with Chris left the Thai man even more lighthearted than usual. Phichit warily looked over his shoulder, trying to confirm the coast was still clear, getting more nervous by the minute. He was aware that Yuuri knew all to well it wasn’t like him to get up and leave a room so suddenly, but he was already later than planned calling due to his excited ramblings of Bangkok, for curious ears. 

 

“Well-I better get back inside before Yuuri gets too suspicious.” Phichit sighed, his shoulders dropping. He was here for Yuuri, but he’d wished he’d had more time to spare on the phone with Chris. “His sister’s covering for me. She’s a gem. Really! We should come here together sometime. The Katsuki’s are ah-may-zing!” Phichit’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, not necessarily for Chris, but for the thought of all of them together, almost like a little family of their own. A smile spread on his lips as his thoughts raced - they would skate at Ice Castle, Yuuri would show them around, (they’d take plenty of selfies throughout the day of course, and maybe a brief life video or two), then they’d relax in the hot springs and finish off the night with Yuuri’s family, Mianko, and the Nishigori family, filling up on Katsudon and Sake. 

 

Phichit reluctantly said his farewells to the other side of the line, each man wishing the other good luck, knowing that they were both going to need it. He held his phone tight to his chest once the call ended, looking up at the sky longingly, like the over-dramatic, hopeless lover he was, musing to himself. “I hope this works.”

 

\---

 

Phichit and Yuuri sat where they had before dinner, practically curled in on each other. An after dinner run to the corner store left them with a six-pack of Ramune, a carton of matcha ice cream, and a variety of Kit-Kat and Pocky in flavors both basic and absurd.  It was 03:00 in Japan and 21:00 in Russia. Phichit found himself drifting in thought as he wondered what exactly Victor and Chris were doing, unaware that a similar playlist was blaring in Victor’s apartment, and tears were falling into slowly-melting ice cream. 

 

Phichit’s eyes watered and Yuuri looked at him, his eyes full of tears of his own. “Phichit, what’s wrong?” the Japanese man sniffled out, his brown eyes showing his sadness, as well as concern for his friend. Phichit held up a Kit-Kat wrapper, wiggling it in Yuuri’s face. “Wasabi.” he choked out, earning a small chuckle through the other man’s tears. “Ah. Yeah, those will get you.” Phichit’s tears escaped further as he continued to chew, a whine escaping his throat as his sinuses burned. “It’s like chopping onions.” Phichit sobbed. 

 

Yuuri laughed and took another bite of ice cream, suddenly grabbing his head as if in excruciating pain. “Yuuri!” Phichit called, instantly cradling his friend, the burn in his nose not forgotten but pushed aside. Yuuri rubbed his temples and let out a pained hiss. “Brain freeze.” he finally responded, and Phichit laughed, tears still flowing from both of them. Phichit cradled his friend in his arm as he shook his fist and cursed toward the heavens. “Damn you, tasty Japanese snacks! Why must you hurt us so?” 

 

Yuuri laughed in his friend’s hold, but they were swiftly interrupted by an irritated knock, and the door slamming opened. “What the hell do you think you’re doing carrying on like that at this hour? I swear.” Mari stood in the doorway, highly unamused, foot tapping and lips pulled into a scowl.  “Sorry, Mari.” the two men said in unison, trying not to giggle at the fact that it rhymed in the worst of ways. “Just keep it down.” she bit back, closing the door. 

  
Phichit and Yuuri tried to stifle their giggles, and Phichit apologized to his friend. “I didn’t think I was being that loud.” Yuuri laughed out, his voice accusatory. “You never do.” Phichit’s jaw dropped in mock offense, and his hand rested over his heart as if the other man had shattered it. “Yuuri!” Phichit threw himself on the floor dramatically, being careful not to make any additional noise. “I’m hurt! Betrayed! I’m attacked. I’m called out! Where is the  **_lie_ ** ?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place simultaneously with the last chapter. When Phichit called to talk to Chris he’d already been in Hasetsu for several hours, although Chris had only been at Victor’s for about 30-45 minutes, and while it was afternoon back in Russia it was already late evening / early night in Hasetsu. 
> 
> Also, if it wasn’t obvious, Victor knew Chris was coming, but didn’t know about the intervention. Yuuri didn’t know Phichit was coming at all, because he’s a sneaky snek. 
> 
> I feel bad for telling this more from Phichit’s POV rather than Yuuri’s, but I feel like it covered a wider range of things, so I’m sorry-not sorry?  
> I think it was also good to have the small bit of lightheartedness and comedic relief in these last two chapters. Unfortunately, now it’s time for more suffering.
> 
> You will have to pry overly-affectionate Phichit from my cold dead fingers.
> 
> The headcanons for him are ridiculous at this point. I saw an interview where BTS admitted they learned English by watching friends, and my theory is that Phichit started with Children’s cartoons, like Spongebob and became obsessed with the American television in general - which is why he knows all these references I keep forcing on him like Dexter’s Lab and The Fairly Odd Parents...He’s also just a trash, Meme!Lord, so it’s to be expected, either way.
> 
> The reason there’s a lot of deja vu here, and re-hashing, and similarities between the “interventions” and some of the events in this chapter is because this is part of Chris and Phichit’s plan - “Operation Omelet du Fromage” as Phichit has appropriately named it. (Much to Chris’ dismay over the grammar - he doesn’t get the reference. Correct grammar is omelet au fromage; translation is literally cheese omelette.) Because what did we cover in the last chapter? You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette: meaning that while Chris and Phichit are good friends, they know that Yuuri and Victor are stubborn little shits and that the only way to fix them is to break them a bit more. A little manipulative? Yes. A bad idea? Maybe. Effective? Guess we’ll find out! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor hesitantly attempted to speak up, swallowing and licking his lips in an attempt to wet his increasingly dry mouth, dehydration and the overwhelming feeling of dread winning the battle. “What di-” Victor was cut off by Yuri’s voice, sure and confident, his eyebrows knitted tight and a triumphant smirk painted on his face, which echoed in his tone. “I told that stupid, fat pig that if he knows what’s good for him he’ll never show his face again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t remember if I just did it, or I already did, but the rating has increased to Mature, simply for the subject matter and Yuri’s foul mouth. This work contains some realistic descriptions of depression, and there’s an upcoming chapter with graphic depiction of anxiety, so be warned going forward.

**St. Petersburg - Four months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Victor Nikiforov is as good as dead.” _

 

Victor’s eyes were cast on the ceiling from his place on the floor, having rolled off of the couch and resigned to laying on the plush rug, wedged between the coffee table and the sofa. Makkachin perked up from her spot at Victor’s feet when she heard a rustling at the front door, but did not leave her place at her human’s feet to go investigate. There was a small declaration of victory followed by a click and a loud slam. 

 

Yuri barged into the apartment, using the spare key he’d knew was hidden beneath the doormat. The blonde stomped in, his irritated muttering lost on numb ears. After a few steps into the apartment Yuri froze, surveying the space, and finding a peak of silver hair from behind the coffee table. “What the _ actual _ fuck, old man?”

 

Clothes, blankets and dishes were littered everywhere throughout the kitchen and living area. The sink and counter were piled high. Yuri almost felt sorry for Chris, knowing that he’d made sure everything was pristine before he left, just for Victor to go and mess everything up again. Victor did not even look at the teen or turn his head, even as Yuri approached him and dished a light kick to his shoulder. Yuri growled when he earned no response. 

 

The teen crouched down, knocking on Victor’s head with his knuckles, to which the other man winced and uttered a small groan of disapproval, the teen’s shouting unwelcome. “Hello! Earth to Victor! You in there?!” Victor opened his eyes once the tapping stopped, dulled blue meeting burning emerald. It was silent for a moment, the Russian’s locked in a stare down, neither amused. “Just leave me to die in peace.” Victor finally mused, his tone just as sullen as his eyes, before he turned his head toward the couch, averting his gaze. 

 

“Oh believe me, you over-dramatic piece of shit, that was the plan!” Yuri stood up, turning his gaze in the other direction, back to surveying the mess with a disturbed cringe threatening his spine. The blonde shoved his hands into his pockets, his unseen expression softening, though his words still came out harsh. “Stupid Yakov and Lilia wouldn’t leave me alone. Yakov said your phone’s been going straight to voicemail for days. I don’t why they couldn’t come check on you themselves. It’s stupid.” 

 

Victor continued to look toward the legs of the sofa, though his gaze was far off in the distance, focused on nothing. The numbing emptiness that plagued Victor’s chest almost hurt worse than the searing ache that it had replaced. Yuri tapped his foot, arms crossed in a huff, getting more restless as the minutes passed by without a single word. 

  
Yuri growled and turned to loom over Victor, his eyes cast down. Victor, surprisingly, turned and met his gaze. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Katsudon, but you can’t live your fucking live like this! You’re killing yourself! Move on already!”

  
Victor tried to subdue the tremble of his lower lip by biting down on it. Yuuri’s harsh eyes softened, but the gesture was accompanied by an exasperated sigh. The blonde pushed at Victor’s shoulder, attempting to usher him into a sitting position and the older man obliged, climbing onto the couch. Makkachin followed, swiftly curling into his lap. 

 

Yuri knew that both sides were just being ridiculous and that neither wanted this, and he’d heard from Georgi about Chris’ attempts to push the right buttons. While Yuri would go to his grave lamenting about what idiots they were, and how much they annoyed him, he still cared and, though he would never admit it, appreciated their presence in his life. 

 

The teen softened his tone, shoulders dropping in defeat and hands shoved restlessly in the pockets of his jacket. “Just forget him, Victor. Do you honestly think he would have done this to you, if he actually cared?” Yuri’s mouth was like a gun, his tongue like a finger on a trigger and his words the bullet as they shattered the weakened glass of Victor’s heart.

 

Victor didn’t make a sound, but the tears spilled more quickly that ever and the blonde made an audible scoff, whispering to himself and rolling his eyes. “Seriously?” Just as if lightning had struck him, the idea to take things a step further illuminated in his mind.

 

“This is ridiculous. I’m putting an end to this, right now.” Yuri fished out his phone and tapped on the screen with practiced speed, every now and then peeking up to glance at Victor who was blubbering on the sofa. He finally stopped typing, re-reading the message before hitting send, and Victor’s tears began to slow. He looked at Yuri inquisitively, as if the curiosity of Yuri’s sudden outburst outweighed his pity party. 

 

“There! Out of sight, out of mind.” Yuuri shrugged, putting his phone back in his pocket and looking at Victor with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The look on Yuri’s face sent Victor’s heart racing, the expression he wore was usually reserved for when his intentions were harsh and meant to cause conflict. 

 

Victor hesitantly attempted to speak up, swallowing and licking his lips in an attempt to wet his increasingly dry mouth, dehydration and the overwhelming feeling of dread winning the battle. “What di-” Victor was cut off by Yuri’s voice, sure and confident, his eyebrows knitted tight and a triumphant smirk painted on his face, which echoed in his tone. “I told that stupid, fat pig that if he knows what’s good for him he’ll never show his face again.” 

 

Victor’s eyes widened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling his head, his chest and his stomach. Victor felt dizzy and light headed, and his stomach churned as if he would be sick, the twisting ache in his chest returning from deep within the numbing void. Victor exhaled sharply and his lips parted as if he would protest, but the words wouldn’t come out. 

 

The silence was broken by Yuri’s apathetic tone, as he waved his wrist in dismissal and spoke. “You can thank me later, but don’t expect me to help your dumb ass ever again.” The blonde turned quickly on his heels, leaving a speechless and broken Victor to fester on the couch.  The teen reached the door and turned, just as the sobs broke free, exiting the apartment with yet more painful words rolling off his tongue. 

 

“You’re better off without him, you know.” 

 

The door closed behind the younger Russian and Victor slid down in his seat, his eyes wide an anxious, pulling Makkachin close, his arms tight around her, and let his tears fall into brown fur. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what’s coming next? Guess we’ll find out soon enough.
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update. I was at the rink all weekend, my mom’s coming so I’ve had to clean and I’ve actually been pretty busy at work because Mondays...But I got this one, and will hopefully at least get another chapter up before the end of the week. 
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why is Yurio texting me?” Yuuri’s heart raced and pounded in his ears, the swelling pit in his stomach accompanied by coursing heat through his skin and veins. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his brain going places he begged it not to go. 
> 
> “What if something happened to Victor?” 
> 
> “What if something happened to Makkachin?”
> 
> “What if - what if - what if-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains mild but realistic depiction of an anxiety attack. You have been warned. ((Skip to bottom of page for more notes and I'll summarize if you'd still like to know what happens but can't handled.))

**Hasetsu - Four months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Why is he wasting time on you?!” _

 

Yuuri had been doing surprisingly well since his visit from Phichit, feeling more inclined to get up and function, though the sting of the ring on his finger and the emptiness in his heart was still sitting heavily on him. He’d just finished helping out with the dinner rush and returned to his room when a distinctive chime came from his bedside table - Phichit had removed his phone from it’s perpetual state of Do Not Disturb and Yuuri had forgotten to set it back. 

 

Yuuri shuffled over toward the bed expecting a photo or two, or five, from Phichit’s visit to South Korea. Yuuri shook his head with a fond smile remembering their discussion; over the next weeks, Phichit was planning to travel all over visiting other skaters in their home countries. Yuuri could not for the life of him gather how his friend had managed to rope in Seung-Gil of all people, given he was more antisocial that Yuuri. After visiting Seung-Gil in South Korea, he was stopping by China just long enough to pick up Guang-Hong, the two of them would then book it to the US to stay with Leo. Phichit was going to finish his tour with a week in Switzerland, with none other than Chris. When jokingly asked about Canada, he’d had just squinted and stuck his tongue out in distaste. 

 

Yuuri prepared for a photo of an unamused Korean and overly amused Thai surrounded by street food stands, or K-Pop stars, or both, honestly, he wouldn’t put anything past Phichit. He removed the device from the nightstand and his heart jumped. “Why is Yurio texting me?” Yuuri’s heart raced and pounded in his ears, the swelling pit in his stomach accompanied by coursing heat through his skin and veins. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his brain going places he begged it not to go.    
  
“What if something happened to Victor?” 

 

“What if something happened to Makkachin?”

 

“What if - what if - what if-”

 

Yuuri could hear the swirling in his ears and felt dizzy, his vision blurring. Deep down he knew he was overreacting, and everything was probably fine, but for Yuri to text him out of the blue just seemed off and he couldn’t control the reaction of his mind and body. He couldn’t bring himself to open the message for several minutes, his palms sweating as he attempted to calm himself down. Once he’d convinced himself that it was just Victor telling Yuri to text him and inform him that he was a terrible person, he hated him, and to choke on the dog toy, he calmed down. He was hurting from the conclusion he’d he’d reached, but he was still calm enough to open the message and see what it actually said.

 

The remaining, of multiple, messages came through while Yuuri was mentally preparing himself, and the additional vibrations and dings did nothing to sooth him quicker. Yuuri reluctantly opened his messages and tapped on top thread, eyes closed in preparation. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, a new type of anxiety stabbing at his skin like needles, from the inside out, as he read over the excessively long message, spanning multiple text bubbles.

 

> _ Hey pig! I don’t know what the fuck you said to him, but Victor’s laying here trying to die. You either need to apologize so you two can go back to being disgusting or make it clear you don’t want him. We’re all starting to get pissed off. Not even at you. (Partially at you, but mostly just Victor.) He’s pathetic! All he does is lay around and cry, and I’m NOT exaggerating. Makkachin really needs to go to the groomer, like she actually smells like DOG  for the first time in her life, and her fur is so long I can’t even see her eyes. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Don’t even get me started on Victor or the apartment - it’s a pigsty.  (You’d probably love it.) I can send pics if you want. IS this what you wanted, piggy? Trying to live out that Eros performance? Chase after him and then toss him aside once you got him? Seriously though... I will send you pictures if you want them. It’s really sad. I don’t care what you do, just figure this out so the both of you can move the hell on. Doesn’t matter how, just ON!  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Don’t think I don’t know what Chris and Phichit are up to, scoping you two out and trying to salvage something from all this. You hopeless romantics are nothing but that - hopeless. I don’t know if you’re in on it or not, but it’s time to stop dicking around just tell each other how you really feel, whether you feel the same or not. It’s fucking ridiculous. Don’t bother replying to this, because I won’t read it and I don’t care. I just wanted to make sure you were aware and not locked in some “ignorance is bliss” bullshit, thinking he’s happy without you, because he’s NOT! _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Anyway - It fucking stinks in here so I’m going to do as he requested and ‘leave him to die in peace’. (Why is he so extra? Like I really don’t blame you for not wanting to be with him. He’s a disaster human.)  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I hope you got fat again! Later, loser. _

 

Once he was over the initial shock, having read and re-read more times than he could count, Yuuri kept repeating the words in his head,  _ ‘If you ever need me, call me, doesn’t matter when or where I am, okay?’ _  Phichit had been telling him that for years, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yuuri paced rapidly, chest clenched in on itself, hysterical blubbering hindering any chance of a normal breath as he chewed at the cuticles of one hand and the other hovered over the Call Button on Phichit’s contact profile.  _ ‘I’ll never be mad. I ALWAYS have time for you. ESPECIALLY if you’re upset. That what friends are for.’  _

 

Yuuri tossed his phone on the bed with a disgruntled exclamation, the device just barely missing the wall. He collapsed to the floor with his back against the edge of the bed, hands knitted tight in the hair framing his face, hard enough to cause discomfort. His hand pressed into his temples hard and his eyes screwed tightly shut. He needed Phichit but he couldn’t bring himself to call - just as he needed Victor but couldn’t ask him to stay. He was frustrated with himself to a new extreme and the clenching in his chest was more painful than anything he’d ever felt.

 

“I really messed up. I messed up bad.” Yuuri’s erratic breaths came in short bursts with his sobs, words directed only at himself occasionally escaping. He pulled his knees to his chest, attempting to relieve the throbbing pressure in beneath his rib cage, hugging them tight. He tried rocking in place, he tried breathing exercises, he felt like he’d tried everything, but he just couldn’t calm down. “Dammit!!” 

 

Yuuri looked up to his desk, breath ragged and white knuckled grip trembling around his own knees. The image he focused on was blurry from tears, but aided by his blue-framed lenses and the memory itself, it was as clear as day. Yuuri gazed longingly at the framed photo, regret weighing heavily in his mind, it was hands down his favorite, and seeing it only made his heart somersault faster. There on his desk, where there used to sit a framed poster of Victory, sat a neatly framed photo of himself, and Victor, after the Cup of China. Both wore bright smiles and Victor’s arms were wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s shoulder, the Russian’s nose just short of nuzzling into Yuuri’s hair, as Yuuri displayed his silver medal proudly. 

 

Yuuri felt like a selfish fool, and maybe he was. He curled in tighter on himself, making himself as small as possible, in an attempt to vanish into thin air.  “Victor. I’m so sorry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Yuuri got a text from Yurio, who basically just called him and Victor out on all their shit ....
> 
> Yuuri is kind of freaking the fuck out, but of course he is, he literally thought Victor was living the good life, and Yuri called him out on his shit, and now he has to live with the fact that he broke Victor's heart. 
> 
> What ever will he dooo????? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mon ami, it doesn’t have to be this big of a deal. If you love him, just tell him. I promise he will not reject you. You’re the one who sent him away remember? You’re the one that has to make the next move if you want to stay with him. You don’t even have to call, or text, there are other ways to say what you want to say, and I’m sure you could find one that works well in this situation, and doesn’t compromise you to an uncomfortable FaceTime. Trust me, it’s not pretty, it would probably do more harm than good for you to see him like he is now.”

**Hasetsu - Five months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “What is it that you want me to be to you?” _

 

Yuuri was utterly broken. He spent the next month with a fresh and prominent ache in his chest, occasional fits of anxiety taking over. Everyday he considered calling Phichit, or Chris, or Victor himself - he’d even contemplated calling Yurio. 

 

The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps Yuri was just trying to mess with him, but he reminded himself that the teen definitely wouldn’t have gone out of his way to do so, meaning everything he had said was the truth. Yuuri wondered why Victor hadn’t protested further, why he hadn’t just spoken up, but a cringe ran up his spine and knots twisted into his stomach when he realized that by thinking those things, he was expecting more from Victor than he was willing to do himself. 

 

He wanted nothing more than to call Victor and take it all back, or better yet, go back to Barcelona and do it over differently. Unfortunately, something like this could not be undone, only put in the past while attempting to heal, be it with or without each other. He hated himself for breaking Victor’s heart, and he’d believed he was doing what was right for both of them. 

 

Victor had asked what Yuuri wanted him to be and Yuuri had shot down every option. Yuuri had stated he wanted him to just be himself, and while that was true, he was finding out more and more every day that Victor just being himself wasn’t enough. He wanted Victor to not only be himself, but his coach, his best friend and his lover, and every painful thump and twist in his chest was a reminder of that.

 

Yuuri buried his face in his pillow, clinging to his phone, Victor’s contact pulled up, the picture of the silver-haired man and his beloved poodle in front of Hasetsu Castle staring back at him. He’d thought about what Yuri had said; Victor had not been answering his phone, and it made Yuuri wonder if it was on Do Not Disturb like his had been, or turned off, or dead, or just ignored. He didn’t know if Victor would answer, or if his voicemail was full, or if he would even have the courage to leave a voicemail if he managed to get that far, or what he would actually say to Victor if he  _ did  _ answer.

 

Yuuri let a defeated sigh slip through his red, swollen lips, which had been cut up by his own canines over the course of the previous weeks. Resigning to his own failure he backed out of Victor’s profile and scrolled up his contact list selecting his best friend and hitting the Call Button. 

 

\---

 

( Phichit =  **Bold** , Chris =  _ Italics _ , Yuuri = Normal )

 

\---

 

“ **Yuuri! Sawasdee krab!** ”

  
“ _ Bounjour, mon ami!! _ ” 

 

Phichit chuckled as Chris chimed in and Yuuri let the weakest smile tug on his lips as his best friend continued. 

 

“ **You’re on speaker, by the way! If you couldn’t tell.** ”  Yuuri forced out a small chuckle before acknowledging. 

 

“I noticed. Hey, Chris.”

 

“ **So what’s up?** ”

 

“I uh-I got a text from Yurio.” 

 

“ _ The angry petit? _ ”

 

“ **Chris! Oh my god! You can’t just say stuff like that!** ”

 

“ _ What?! Tell me I’m wrong. _ ”

 

“ **Geeze. Yes, Toffee, Yuri** **Plisetsky** **. Anyway - You were saying, Yuuri?** ”

 

“Toffee?” Yuuri intejected, eyebrow raised inquisitively although the other could not see his expression. 

 

“ **_Don’t worry about it!_ ** ”  Phichit and Chris’ voices melded together in a seemingly practiced way, quick to deter Yuuri back to the topic he’d called to discuss while remaining nonchalant. “ **And? What’d he say?** ”

 

Yuuri paused, swallowing the lump in his throat and attempting to procrastinate re-hashing the message, although he was the one who brought it up. 

 

“ _ Well? Spit it out. _ ”   
  
“ **Just read it to us.** ” 

 

Yuuri grew clammy, clenching and unclenching his hands and jaw in discomfort. He reluctantly opened his messages, the strain of harsh truth now one from the top due an influx of photos from Phichit’s off-season travels. He tapped on “Yurio” and scrolled up the page, offering a shaky exhale into the speaker before reading the massive text off to his friends. 

 

“ **Wow.** ” 

 

“ _ Ugh-all that cleaning for nothing. _ ” 

 

“ **So what are you going to do?** ”

 

“I don’t know.” Yuuri choked out, fighting back tears. He worried his lip for what felt like the longest moment in his life, the uncharacteristic silence coming from the other end of the line unsettling and deafening. Yuuri finally managed to sputter out some semblance of what he wanted, his friends awaiting eagerly to put in their two cents, once it was out in the open. “I just-I want to call him but-”

 

 _“But what?_ ” Chris nearly spat. “ _Honey, the two of your aren’t getting any younger, and I have to agree with the Yurio - this is getting ridiculous. Either you want to be with him, or you don’t.”_

 

“ **Chris is right. Just tell Victor the same stuff you told me.** ”

 

“But what if-”

 

“ **‘Buts’ are for touching!** ”

 

“What if he hates me?”

 

“ _ Yuuri, I promise you that couldn’t be further from the truth. _ ” 

 

Yuuri broke down, trying to keep his sobs quiet to avoid disturbing the call, but that didn’t stop the sniffled and whimpers. He felt so many emotions that it seemed impossible to contain them all - the butterflies in his stomach fluttered while simultaneously twisting in knots, his tears falling with sadness and happiness, his heartbeat pounding with relief and anxious anticipation. Chris continued, attempting to comfort the younger man further. 

 

“ _ He’s heartbroken now, sure, and he may be for a while, but he’s also a very forgiving man. _ ”

 

“ **And forgetful.** ” Phichit chimed in, earning a disciplinary groan from Chris. Phichit squeaked, realizing that now was not the time, though it was hard for him to grasp because it was how he’d always comforted Yuuri, inappropriate humor and a bubbly attitude. Yuuri chuckled on his end, attempting to wipe the flow of droplets from his cheeks, though it was in vain, their power only intensified as Chris proceeded.

 

“ _ He loves you, Yuuri. _ ” 

 

Yuuri could no longer hold the sobs back and his breathing hitched erratically as he tried to choke out the words. “I-I love him too.” 

 

“ **_Then tell him that!_ ** ” Chris and Phichit echoed each other in perfect unison, the exasperation apparent in their voice. The mental image Yuuri painted of the exact moment had hands thrown up in the air in frustrated surrender with eyes rolled, and finished with cringingly tight pinches to the bridges of their nose. (He wasn’t wrong.)

 

“ _ Mon ami, it doesn’t have to be this big of a deal. If you love him, just tell him. I promise he will  _ _ not _ _ reject you.  _ _ You’re _ _ the one who sent  _ _ him _ _ away remember? You’re the one that has to make the next move if you want to stay with him. You don’t even have to call, or text, there are other ways to say what you want to say, and I’m sure you could find one that works well in this situation, and doesn’t compromise you to an uncomfortable FaceTime. Trust me, it’s not pretty, it would probably do more harm than good for you to see him like he is now. _ ” 

 

“ **A letter!** ” Phichit blurted out, returning from his crazy roller coaster, train of thought. “ **Yuuri! You still have one of Makka’s dog toys right?!** ” Yuuri nodded, though quickly realizing he couldn’t be seen, and offered a hum of agreement. 

 

“ **Great! Just send him a post! You can send the dog toy back to Makkachin, and just put a letter in with it. It’s a little slow, but something written in your handwriting would probably mean a lot more than some typed out words on a screen. Plus, no awkward calls, or texts left on ‘read’!** ”

 

“ _ Mon cher, you’re a genius! _ ”

 

“ **I know. You may hold your applause.** ” Chris laughed. Undoubtedly Phichit was doing some ridiculous pose, and Yuuri could imagine it almost perfectly. After years of living with Phichit and skating against Chris he’d adopted their mannerisms to heart, and it was no surprise to him that these two were getting along so well. They were good friends for him, and quite obviously making amazing friends for each other.

 

“Well, about that-”

 

“ _ What? Can’t read? Can’t write? Carpal tunnel? _ ”

 

“ **OH MY GOD! They’ve taken your hands! I knew it!** ” Phichit’s sarcastic and high volume rant  was accompanied by over-dramatic dry sobs. The Thai man’s carrying on was met with equally high-volumed frustration as Yuuri fought back to his nonsensical rambling. As per usual, Phichit did not relent when challenged.

 

“How would I call you if I didn’t have hands?!” 

 

“ **Bluetooth.** ” 

 

“Stop being dumb. My hands are fine.”

 

“ **TOFFEE! NO! It’s worse than I thought! MY YUURI! He-He’s finally gone** **blind** **!** ” 

 

“PHICHIT!”

 

Phichit laughed hysterically in the background, and Chris obviously having taken the phone out of his reach due to both the volume and mischief. Phichit collected himself quickly, still panting and releasing the occasional exhausted “hoo” and “oh, boy” in the background as Chris picked back up. “ _ What’s the problem? _ ” 

 

“I uh-I already texted him. Back when I first found it. I asked for his address, but uh-” 

 

“ _ But uh? _ ”

 

“He uh-He didn’t respond.” 

 

“ _ Oh. _ ” Chris mused, his voice laced with slight shock and definite confusion.  “ _ He didn’t tell me about that. Maybe it didn’t go through? _ ”

 

“No - I got the ‘read’ notification.”

 

“ **_Ouch._ ** ” 

 

“ **What did it say?** ”

 

Yuuri pulled open his phone and read it off to them, he hadn’t sent many texts so it was still toward the top of his conversations. Phichit let out a pained hiss and Chris clicked his tongue in response as they repeated bits of the message back to him.

 

“ _ Seriously? ‘Hey Victor’? _ ”

 

“ **Hope everything’s going well?** ”

 

“ **_Tell everyone I said ‘Hi’?_ ** ”

 

“ _ You’re an idiot _ .” Chris’ tone was deadpan and matter-of-fact and Yuuri shrunk in on himself. He wanted to agree, just as he always wanted protest that he had no idea what else to say, and he thought it had been perfect, but the guilt was swallowing him up and keeping the words from coming out.

 

A small noise on the other end of the line with some indistinguishable chatter signaled that the phone had been handed back to Phichit. The line was silent, and Yuuri was okay with that, silence was better than being chided for his lack of better words. Chris finally spoke up. “ _ Alright. I’m texting you Victor’s address. Do with it what you will. _ ”

 

“Thank you, Chris.” Yuuri’s voice was weak, barely above a choked out whisper and his eyes still stung with the tears that had refused to come.

 

“ **You gonna be okay?** ” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“ **Alright. Well take care.** ”

 

“ _ Call us if you need anything, okay? _ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ _ Auf Wiedersehen! _ ”

 

“ **Pai Laew Na Krab!** ”

 

\---

 

As soon as the call ended the chime of a text notification went off in his hand. Yuuri was quick to open it up and examine the address. He removed himself from the bed and sauntered over to his desk, taking a seat, and quickly rummaging through the drawers. He pulled out some stationary paper that had been left over from graduation thank you notes and grabbed a pen for the cup. 

 

He stared blankly for a while, frustrated and lost. He changed positions in his chair, paced his room, pulled at his own hair, rubbed at his temple, went to the kitchen to get water, then back to get a snack. After two hours of wracking his brain, which felt more like days, he’d finally found a good starting point, and from there, the words flowed easier and easier until he had what vaguely resembled a formal apology, small hints of a love letter laced here and there.

 

\-----

 

Yuuri couldn’t even sleep. First thing in the morning, he was out the door with his carefully folded letter, secured in its own envelope, and Makkachin’s pink, rubber bone in hand. He ran to the post office, his skate bag thrown over his shoulder and banging against his side with each fast-paced jog. He was winded by the time he arrived, having gotten far more out of shape than planned, though he was proud that he’d only managed to gain less than 5 kilograms from all of this and that would be easy to shave off. 

 

Yuuri picked out a cushioned envelope and carefully inclosed the note and dog toy. He sealed the package carefully and scribbled a couple of things, in both Japanese and Russia on the back and front, with a black marker. He double checked every character of the address as he copied it down by hand from phone screen to package, and then took it to the counter, shipping it out with the fastest service he could. 

 

He let out a sigh of relief as he exited the post office, the nervous flips of his heart and stomach making his time in the building seemingly endless. In a week, give or take, Victor should receive the post, and then it was Victor’s move from there. Yuuri had done his part, and somewhat made his peace, knowing that it may be in vain, but at least he could know that he’d tried to right things. With a few deep breaths he made his way to Ice Castle, suddenly feeling motivated to get back on his blades, but more so craving the distraction and peace the ice had brought him so many times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.  
> I think we’re actually getting somewhere!
> 
> Petit - Small (French)  
> Auf Wiedersehen - Goodbye (German)  
> Pai Laew Na Krab - See you (Thai)
> 
>  
> 
> Petition to make Chris referring to Yurio as an “angry small” canon, anyone?
> 
> Also, time for some cultural learning, in case anyone is wondering, ‘Why is Chris speaking German?’ - Well my friends, sit tight, because Switzerland has four official languages. (German, French, Italian and Romansh) though French and German are more common. It actually kind of makes me sad how most people have Chris predominantly French speaking, although German is more prominently spoke at 63%. But, it is what is it. (If you’ve watched the English dub, you’ll know that his accent does sound more German than French, but Funimation accents are also just terrible anyway.) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I, do however, have no freaking idea how post in Japan works and am too lazy to research it...I’m literally USA born and bred so I’m just going with how USPS works...It can’t be that different, right? >_>;
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two melted into each other silently, as the TV played at a low volume, enjoying the coziness and comfort of each other as they longed for the one thing that was still missing. The one thing that would pull everything together and make it feel like home again. The something that was missing, was actually someone - someone whose heart was spilled onto stationary in black ink and well-practiced English, tucked away in Victor’s kitchen draw to be forgotten in lieu of potentially causing more pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Seriously? Over 1K hits? (ಥ‿ಥ)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for your patience and continued support!
> 
> I’m going to try to get this finished by the end of the week...No promises, but I actually got my house cleaned up - mostly - so I will have far more time to write and post from home! Woo!

**St. Petersburg - Five months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Why would you say something like that? Like you’re trying to test me!” _

 

Victor was shuffling around his apartment, stuck in a loop of staring at the empty fridge and looking out the window at nothing in particular. He let out a defeated sigh as he dropped to the sofa, and Makkachin nudged at his hand with her nose before licking at his partially covered face, whining with anticipation.

 

“I know, I know.” he declared, waving her away briefly. Instantly feeling guilty for attempting to shoo his beloved companion away, to no avail, the same hand found an unkempt ear and ruffled it gently. He pushed himself up and threw his legs over the edge of the sofa, cracking his neck and doing some light stretching before standing back up. “I guess we have to go to the store, huh?” 

 

Makkachin tilted her head in question, letting out a distraught whimper. Victor looked at her carefully. His blue eyes welled up quickly as he looked at the unruly fur, realizing her eyes were barely visible beneath the massive mess. “Makka. I’m so sorry! We’ll get you cleaned up, don’t worry!” 

 

Victor threw his arms around her neck, finally taking in a whiff and pulling away. “Phew! You stink.” Just then another smell hit him and his expression grew heavy with surprise and shame. “ _ I _ stink.” Victor rushed to stand, tipping over a nearly empty, ice cream canister, the stench of rancid dairy hitting his nostrils as well. Victor covered his mouth and nose, “ _ Everything _ stinks.” 

 

Victor looked over the entirety of the apartment, it was a complete wreck, although Chris had made sure it was spotless before her left. How did Victor Nikiforov come to this? He hung his head, silver bangs and clear droplets obscuring his vision of the mess, and the poodle staring up at him. “How did I let this happen? Makkachin, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst.” 

 

Victor looked at his ring with disdain, but inhaled sharply, shaking off the tears and looking at the the digital wall clock which displayed the date and time. It was early on in the day, and if he forced himself, there was a lot he could get done within a reasonable timeframe. Just like a switch, something flipped and Victor was moving around his apartment like a whirlwind. 

 

He rushed to the bedroom and dug for clean clothing, took a thorough but quick shower and completely left his beauty routine in the dirt, as that wasn’t registered as important in this moment. Once he was presentable he had Makkachin on her leash and he was out the door. 

 

\---

 

Victor had dropped Makkachin at the groomers while he picked up a few things from the store, food and treats for her, she deserved to eat like a King after all she had so patiently put up with, and healthy, balanced food for himself as well, not a container of Vodka or ice cream to be found. He’d also picked up a few, desperately needed, cleaning supplies. 

 

He slammed the car door shut, a clean cut Makkachin, fresh and bright, bouncing in front of him, and a few brown, paper bags tucked under his arm. Just as he approached his doorstep, a slightly familiar voice called for him and he turned to greet his landlord.

 

“Nikiforov! I was hoping I’d catch you. First of all your rent is late! I’ve tried to be patient because I know you’re scatterbrained and all, but ever since you got back from Japan I haven’t seen a cent. Secondly - I’ve gotten some complaints about “smell”. I came over but you didn’t answer, and given the complaints and the fact you haven’t paid your rent in months, I let myself in - wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in there since no one’s seen you for a while. Your apartment is in  _ unacceptable  _ condition! I want at least one month’s rent on my desk and that apartment spotless before the end of the week or I’ll have to evict you.” 

 

Victor didn’t even have time to respond. His face lit up in the brightest blush he’d ever felt, embarrassment deepening, as he attempted to shrink into nothingness. Victor felt absolutely ashamed. His landlord was a harsh man, but a generally patient one, and even if unintentional he’d abused that. 

 

Victor nodded in response, cutting in at the mention of eviction. “I don’t blame you. My sincerest apologies, Petrov.” Victor rustled the bags in his arms. “I just got some stuff to clean with. I’ll have it cleaned up immediately.” The landlord looked back with arms crossed, but relaxed his shoulders when Victor’s expression registered as abnormal, not the carefree smile he was used to seeing but a far off, sullen look. “As for the rent, I’ve had no excuse not to pay it. You’ll have every payment I missed and one in advance as soon I get inside and set these bags down, I’ll cut the check and bring it straight to your office.” Victor bowed his head in apology, a habit he’d picked up from Japan and hadn’t left behind, uttering another small ‘I’m sorry’, this time weak, and laced with his shame.

 

Petrov raised an eyebrow in question, his stance unmoving. There was a moment of silence between them before he held out a small post. “One more thing. This came for you. Your mailbox was full so they brought it to the front office.” Victor looked a the package longingly, with a spark of surprise deep in his eyes. He took the package, setting it atop his groceries in his arm, and offered a nod of gratitude before turning back to his door to enter his apartment.

 

\---

 

Groceries were quickly put away, and Victor had begun tossing trash and wiping counters, his eyes fixed on the gold bubble mailer the entire time. When he’d first been handed the post, he’d immediately noticed that both Russian and Japanese adorned the free space of the envelope, reading “URGENT” and “DO NOT BEND”, both with a familiar penmanship. The handwritten demands matched the deliver to and return addresses on the package, and Victor knew the handwriting like the back of his hand. Despite the package lacking any name other than his own, he knew exactly who had sent it.

The recognition of where this package had come from set a fire in his stomach and a rapid beat in his chest. He was wary of the package, mistrusting almost, and glared at it as if it contained a mass of venomous snakes, although the excited butterflies in his gut betrayed his sharp gaze. The metallic material shone in his peripheral, catching the fluorescents over the bar area with every movement. It didn’t even occur to him, until he’d almost finished cleaning the kitchen, that he’d never given Yuuri his address. 

 

Rather than be concerned about who was passing it out without his permission, or thinking Yuuri was some creepy stalker who found it somewhere on the internet, and subsequently how many other people had it, he took it as a sign that Yuuri was trying to reach him. Obviously when he had not responded, Yuuri had contacted a mutual friend, or more than one, in an attempt to obtain it. He had actually tried, and that gave Victor a sense of hope.

 

Victor put the finishing touches on the kitchen, all the trash discarded, all the dishes cleaned or in the dishwasher to be cleaned, the floor swept and mopped and the counters wiped. He looked over the clean of the kitchen feeling a sense of accomplishment, standing straight and tall with shoulders back for the first time since Barcelona. It was refreshing to be surrounded by the calming smell of cleaners, accompanied by a spotless kitchen. 

 

Victor briefly smiled and came short of patting himself on the back. He glanced from his thankfully, distracting handywork and focused his ocean blue eyes back to the envelope, continuing his staring contest with the inanimate object. He walked over to the living room side of the bar and picked it up gently. His lips curled into a fond smile as he admired the familiar handwriting, sighing to himself. “Yuuri.” 

 

After what felt like hours, he carefully ripped into the envelope, but before he could open it further to reach or peek inside Yuri’s words ricocheted through his mind, piercing in like shrapnel into every ounce of hope he’d worked up: “ _ Just forget him, Victor. Do you honestly think he would have done this to you, if he actually cared? _ ”

 

Victor’s smile instantly turned to a frown and his eyes began to water. He knew what was inside, thinking back to Yuuri’s text, it was clearly only Makkachin’s toy, and he could feel that much through the padded material. Victor dropped the package to the counter and left it there, until he grew tired of it mocking him and resigned to stuffing it in a drawer - out of sight, out of mind. 

 

Victor only allowed himself a few more moments of self-pity, as he’d spent the past five months consumed by it. With a heavy heart, and the taunting piece of metal weighing down his finger, he returned to cleaning, doing all he’d promised his landlord, rent check presented and all. 

 

He closed out the day with a hot soak and his normal nightly routine, long neglected by wasted days and nights. He forced himself to cook a balanced meal, though he exclusively picked and nibbled at it reluctantly. Out of sight was  _ not _ out of mind and the thought of the package resonated although it was put away. Makkachin scratched at the drawer, which did nothing to help, almost as if she knew her toy was in there. 

 

Victor resigned and opened the drawer, pushing his half-eaten chicken and broccoli aside. He pulled the bone from the package with tears pricking their ducts, and reluctantly offered it to a patient poodle, whose tail wagged vigorously back and forth, harder than it had in months. Makkachin sniffed at the pink object and let out a distraught whimper as she did, pawing at Victor’s leg as her whine turned into an anticipating bark, and subsequently a bereaved howl. 

 

Victor frowned, knowing that to himself it would simply smell like dog spit and rubber, but to Makkachin it would smell like Hasetsu, like all of the people who had given her so much love and affection, like Yuuri. Victor worried his bottom lip and reached his unoccupied hand to soothe her, patting her freshly trimmed head, and offering calming shooshes and “ _ I know” _ s. 

 

The Russian’s brows furrowed with the distress of his pet and he took the bone from her line of sight, ready to shove it back in the envelope and tuck it back in the drawer - or better, throw it into the trash, though he could never do such a thing. As Victor’s hand reached into the envelope with the toy, his fingers brushed an area that was not obscured by plastic air bubbles but instead with smooth, resistant paper. He cocked his head and gripped at the offending material, pulling out a tightly sealed, white envelope with his name scrawled out on the front, in Yuuri’s penmanship. 

 

Victor’s eyes sparkled, but the pain in his chest wouldn’t allow him to move. He shoved the note and dog toy back into the bubble mailer and gently placed it back in the drawer, unable to stomach or fathom what it might say. His hopes had been shattered before, he didn’t know if he could handle it again. 

 

After he tidied up from his half-eaten dinner and took Makkachin for a brisk walk, the two companions, cleaned up and fresher than they’d been in quite some time, curled up on the sofa. Candles burned to eliminate resistant smells and the entire apartment was unobscured from litter, making everything seem homey and comfortable for the first time since he’d been back in St. Petersburg. 

 

The two melted into each other silently, as the TV played at a low volume, enjoying the coziness and comfort of each other as they longed for the one thing that was still missing. The one thing that would pull everything together and make it feel like home again. The something that was missing, was actually someone - someone whose heart was spilled onto stationary in black ink and well-practiced English, tucked away in Victor’s kitchen draw to be forgotten in lieu of potentially causing more pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor becomes self aware, and it’s horrifying.  
> Makkachin finally got her haircut though...Poor baby. 
> 
> I have also been, rightfully, scolded for this atrocity….  
> I was instructed at post-skating dinner on the 11th to “Go home and write them back together immediately.”
> 
> I did not, because I was busy, and was subsequently busy the rest of the weekend, mostly spending time at the rink with said person…(And my Mom, because Mother’s day.)
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart was heavy, and his soul felt like it was crushing under the weight of Phichit’s every word. Phichit was right in everything he said, and Yuuri knew he meant well, but the truth was hard to swallow, and the guilt boiled deep in the pit of his stomach. He’d been given a lot to think about and consider, but that was for the best. Maybe if he spent his time repeating those things and analyzing them, figuring out how to fix them, there would be no patience needed, and he’d have everything figured out by the time Victor forgave him - maybe.

**Hasetsu - Six months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “You’re not a weak person, anyone who knows you would never think that.” _

 

\---

 

( Phichit =  **Bold** , Chris =  _ Italics _ , Yuuri = Normal )

 

\---

 

“I knew it. He hates me.” Yuuri choked out into the mic of his phone. He’d received no response from Victor, no text, no call, and the priority on the package guaranteed delivery in two weeks or less - it had been almost three and there was nothing. 

 

“ _That doesn’t sound like Victor, to me. Then again, he didn’t tell me that you’d texted him before either._ ” Chris mused, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as Yuuri practically sobbed into the phone. “ _I hate to say it, but it looks like_ _you’ve made your bed Yuuri, and you’re going to have to lie in it._ ”  

 

“ **Yuuri - Don’t cry…** ” Phichit chimed in through the call. “ **Maybe he’s just busy?** ” Yuuri had originally called Phichit, but given his lack of knowledge about Victor he had promptly conferenced in the older man.

 

Yuuri sniffles permeated the silence of the line and both men allowed him a moment, also silent in wonder if the other would speak up first. Phichit finally broke the silence. “ **I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.** ”

 

“ _ I  _ **_know_ ** _ he doesn’t hate you. _ ” 

 

Chris’ voice was almost curt, and Yuuri’s only response were whimpers and distraught breaths. Phichit attempted once more to soothe, but his method was flawed, or Yuuri was immune. “ **Maybe he’s just having the same problem as you, and he’s not sure what to say?** ”

 

Chris offered an audible hum of agreement. “ _ You also have to consider that you hurt him really bad. You have to give it time. He’s feeling the same things you are, and he’s probably just as unsure of what to do. Honestly, if I were him, I’d be confused as hell, right now. Nothing for months then a post out of nowhere, despite the fact I didn’t give you my address when you asked for it? _ ”

 

The lines once again hushed, not words spoke, but a mixture of white noise from Yuuri’s slowing sobs, Hammy and Buster trying to run their wheel off the stand, and Bijou’s distant purring from Chris’ lap, was seemingly deafening. 

 

“ _ Everything happens for a reason, mon cher. Whether you believe that or not, that’s just how it is. I don’t know if this is going to work out how either of you wants, but even if it doesn’t, whatever happens is for the best. I think if anything both of you will have learned a lesson from all this. If even just one of you comes out of this a little less stubborn and hardheaded it’ll be a gift to humanity. _ ” 

 

“ **Chris- Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?** ”

 

“He’s right. I mean - I have no one to blame but myself. I caused all of this because I was sure my way was right, then I realized it wasn’t and got everyone involved like it’ you guys’ problem. I wasted so much time because I didn’t take the time to think about how Victor felt, because I was being selfish, and then wasted even more time because I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong, and now-”

 

Yuuri trailed off, the sound of his struggling to make the next bit come out just as obvious as his fight with more impending tears.

 

“ _ And now? _ ”

 

“It’s too late?” Yuuri couldn’t fight it and the tears began to flow again, the hitching in his breath like static in the line. Phichit and Chris remained quiet for some time, unsure of what to say next, or if anything needed to be said at all. 

 

“ _ Ugh- Yuuri - I never said it was too late, I said that it may take time. I told you before that Victor is very forgiving, but apparently you’re just as impatient as you are stubborn and selfish. _ ”   
  
“ **Chris-** ”

 

“ _ I’m not trying to be mean, or to hurt Yuuri - that’s the last thing I want - I’m just being honest. If I was in his shoes, I would prefer for you guys to give it to me straight rather than jerk me off. _ ”

 

“ **Around. Jerk you around.** ”

 

“ _ I know what I said. Anyway - Victor’s been patiently waiting for  _ **_you,_ ** _ and yet you expect him to just instantly jump back into your life because you wrote him a letter? A letter that may have him even more confused than ever? _ ” Chris’ words forced Yuuri into silent thought. 

 

“ _ Well? Am I wrong? _ ”

 

“No.”

 

“ _ Alright then. _ ”

 

The uncomfortable silence sat heavy, even through the phone, and the tensions were high. Yuuri could tell Phichit was uncomfortable by his uncharacterised silence and he, himself, was expecting further lecturing from Chris. The silence was interrupted by a burst of laughter and the piercing shutter of Phichit’s phone camera followed by an out of place exclamation. “ **Oh my god, Dusty. You fat fuck!** ”

 

Yuuri’s phone vibrated in his hand, and the vibration of Chris’ phone could be heard through the line. Yuuri tapped on the text notification at the top of the screen to see a photo of one of Phichit hamsters stuck, ass-up, in one of the tubes connecting the top level of the cage to the bottom. Yuuri chuckled and Chris snorted, no doubt viewing the same image he was, if the group text read notification was correct. 

 

Once Phichit’s laughter ceased, Chris spoke up. His proposal resonating deep within Yuuri. Anxiety bubbling up through his stomach like he’d eaten something foul.

 

“ _ I’m going to hop off and give Victor a call. _ ” 

 

“No!”

 

“ _ Don’t worry. I won’t mention anything if he doesn’t bring it up. _ ”

 

“Uh-” 

 

Before Yuuri could protest further Chris had said his goodbyes, with a promise to give Phichit a call later, if he was still up, and his end of the line went silent. 

 

“Oh god. Oh god! Phichit you don’t think he’d actually-?”

 

“ **Nah! Don’t worry about it. If there’s anyone you can trust in this, it’s him.** ” Phichit paused for a moment, as if looking for words, and Yuuri was half expecting him to pick up where Chris had left off, not expecting the next words from his friend’s mouth. The words weren’t harsh, but they cut deep, instilling new guilt deep in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach. 

 

“ **Sometimes it feels like those of us on the outside are having just as hard a time with this as the two of you.”** Yuuri sharply inhaled, though he had no chance to speak before Phichit resumed. **“I mean, maybe that’s a stretch. We may not be a hot mess like you, or a depressive sad-sack like Victor, but it still hurts - you know? I mean I can’t imagine how you feel, and I don’t even want to know, but just…**

 

“ **Going back to a conversation Chris and I had while I was in Switzerland - Our best friends were** **_so happy_ ** **! Victor’s not as carefree and aloof as you think - he apparently cares, like** **_a lot_ ** **. Chris said he was super lonely before you came along - and I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, I promise, I have a point! He’s spent a lot of his life alone, and Chris didn’t give me the details but, that goes for family life and career. Victor didn’t really have anyone but the other skaters and his coach back in Russia, and aside from Chris, most of us other skaters put him on this unreachable pedestal, like he’s some unapproachable god.**

 

“ **You have people. You have a loving family, and awesome friends, and since you were pretty mediocre before Victor came a long and whipped you into shape, no one was too intimidated to talk to you.** ” 

 

“Thanks.”

 

“ **I didn’t mean it like that...What I’m** **_trying_ ** **to say is that everyone has their own version of loneliness. That doesn’t make it any greater or lesser than someone else's. You said yourself that you felt like you were fighting alone until he came along, even if that wasn’t true, it’s still how you felt, and that’s valid. You are valid, Yuuri - I want you to know that.** ”

 

“Again, thanks.” 

 

“ **Both you and Victor have your own loneliness, your own insecurities and anxieties, and you guys just really brought the best out of each other, in ways that no one else has been able to - not even Chris or I. It was really nice for us to see that - the two of you so happy and secure - something that you’ve only been able to give each other. You two literally can’t live without each other, and it sucks having to watch you guys try to do that because you think it’s what the other wants, when it’s clearly not.** ”

 

Yuuri wanted to agree but he found the words stuck in his throat as he fought back the lump that had formed there. His heart felt like it would burst from his rib cage and his stomach churned in a way he was sure he’d be sick, eyes burning, red and swollen. 

 

“ **Look, I didn’t mean to lecture you, or put all that on you.** ”   
  
“It’s okay. You’re totally right.” 

 

“ **I just want you to see where we’re coming from. Maybe you can take a page from the book ‘Your Actions Affect More Than Just You’ written by Life, and obviously not required reading for middle-school!Yuuri Katsuki.** ”  

 

Yuuri chuckled half-heartedly, he knew that Phichit was right - he usually was. Once again, Yuuri had been so blind to how his selfish actions were affecting the others around him, lost in his own little world. If this was how Phichit and Chris felt, he could only imagine how his family felt, they loved him, and they also loved Victor. Victor had become family, in his time there he’d become every bit a part of Yutopia as the creaky, wooden floorboards. 

 

“ **You okay?** ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ **Wanna switch to FaceTime and watch Dusty try to escape his own mistakes, or too close to home?** ”

 

“Yea-Hey!”

 

“ **Just turn your camera on!** ”

 

\---

 

Once Yuuri’s seemingly endless FaceTime call with Phichit had actually ended, he’d decided that fresh air was in order. He caught himself staring at the door to of the room where Victor had stayed. He opened the door quietly and peeked inside, it was as empty as the day he left, and therefore as empty as the day before he come into Yuuri’s life like an unrelenting typhoon of happiness and fond memories. The room now remained constantly reserved, by his family, in hopes that Victor would be back, sooner rather than later. Heaving a sigh of grief, Yuuri forced himself to close the door, taking a long moment to gaze at the golden band on his finger, and continued his walk to the wrap around porch that overlooked the garden. 

 

He sat on the boards, hugging his knees close to him and screwing his eyes shut tight. Not even this could bring him peace, as all the things that once brought him solitude and comfort where now hefty reminders of Victor. He had shared so much with him while he was there, his favorite places to think, or not-think, were included, and no longer held the significance they had when Victor was by his side - and he was the one who ruined it. 

 

His heart was heavy, and his soul felt like it was crushing under the weight of Phichit’s every word. Phichit was right in everything he said, and Yuuri knew he meant well, but the truth was hard to swallow, and the guilt boiled deep in the pit of his stomach. He’d been given a lot to think about and consider, but that was for the best. Maybe if he spent his time repeating those things and analyzing them, figuring out how to fix them, there would be no patience needed, and he’d have everything figured out by the time Victor forgave him - maybe. 

 

Once the air grew chilly he resigned what was once his favorite place to sit with Victor after long days at the rink, it was the place they would casually share hopes and dreams as easily as breathing. Yuuri returned to his bed but, as was normal at this point, sleep and dreams escaped him in favor of restless tossing, turning and self reflection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their pets don’t have official names, so I gave them names, because their extra and I’m extra, and why not?
> 
> Hammy...So original Phichit….You win the gold medal for Most Original Pet Name - but honestly, I feel like he would give them really cliche, cutesy names anyway. 
> 
> Hammy is the orange one  
> Buster is the brown one  
> Dusty is the gray one
> 
> Bijou is perfect for Chris’ cat because it means a small and elegant jewel or trinket, and he would. That cat is majestic as fuck.
> 
> Eat my headcanons for breakfast, ya’ll! I have no life.
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yuuri made his move, Victor. Now it’s your turn and you have two options: Go to him or get over him. In my opinion, I suggest the latter, but you’re just as headstrong as he is, so I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do. That being said, I know what you want to do, I know you well, and the Victor Nikiforov I know wouldn’t give up so easily. If you don’t read that note you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. So what’s it going to be? Move on? Or move forward?”

**St. Petersburg - Six months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “Love’s changed me, I’m stronger now.” _

 

\---

 

“Boujour, Chris!” 

 

“ _ Haha! Privyet, Victor! You sound a hell of a lot better than the last time we spoke. _ ”

 

“Well, I guess I am - a little at least.”

 

“ _ Why the sudden change in mood? _ ”

 

“I just stopped laying around. It’s crazy what wonders that will do.”

 

“ _ Anything interesting happen to set it off, or just got tired of moping? _ ”

 

“I don’t know, it just kind flipped like a switch and I realized how bad Makka needed to be groomed, and how gross my apartment was, and how gross  _ I _ was. Chris! I was  _ so _ gross.”

 

“ _ Oh, don’t worry, I believe you, mon ami. _ ”

 

“And I uh - I got a post of Yuuri.”

 

“ _ Oh? _ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ _ Well? Don’t be a tease! What was it? _ ”

 

“It was a toy of Makkachin’s that got left behind...and-”

 

“ _ And? _ ”

 

“A note.”

 

“ _ A note, hm? What’d it say? _ ”

 

“I uh - I haven’t read it.” 

 

“ _ Why not? _ ”

 

“I was worried that maybe I wouldn’t like what it said.” Victor paused, the worry in his words as they trailed off was apparent. Victor was not an apprehensive person, but this situation had certainly swept some of his tendencies out the door. Victor heard what seemed to be an exasperated sigh before Chris continued. 

 

“ _ What exactly do you mean by that? _ ” 

 

“I - I don’t know.”

 

“ _ I think you do. _ ” Chris pushed back, his voice stern and knowing. Victor was silent for a long moment, a nervous breath shuddering against the mic as he tried to work up the nerve to say it. He was worried he’d break down if he admitted it, and while he knew Chris wouldn’t mind, or judge, he had been doing so well and didn’t want to step back into the pain. He finally spoke up, Chris waiting intently and patiently on the other end of the line. 

 

“I was worried that maybe-” Victor began to fight tears and Chris spared him, chiming in with his own deduction. 

 

“ _ That he doesn’t love you? _ ” Victor hummed in agreement, choked out through the tears he’d tried to fight, to no avail. “ _ I don’t think he would go out of his way to get your address and send you a letter just to tell you that you’re not wanted. Yuuri’s a stubborn, selfish, idiot, not a heartless monster. _ ”

 

“Hey!” Victor interjected. He was instantly defensive of Yuuri, despite the fact that he agreed with every word. He didn’t like to hear it, not even in his own mind, let alone from someone else’s lips. 

 

“ _ You really want to stick up for him after all he put you through? You really are hopeless. _ ”

 

Victor was fuming, but stayed silent, knowing that Chris had every right to push back the way he did. Of all the things for Victor to get passionate about, it  _ would _ be the man that broke his heart - he was an idiot in his own right. 

 

“ _ Look - I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: If anything, both of you will have learned a lesson from all this. Even if it’s only one of you who comes out of this a little less stubborn it’ll be for the best. _ ”

 

“You-You talked to Yuuri?” Chris offered a hum of confirmation. Victor’s heart pounded in his chest, his stomach doing excited flips. He was frozen, he couldn’t have said anything more if he’d wanted, or needed to. He was unaware of his own expression, as there was no reflection nearby, but a familiar burn in his cheeks and the sparkle that had been missing from his eyes returned with a powerful vengeance. 

 

“ _ Yuuri made his move, Victor. Now it’s your turn and you have two options: Go to him or get over him. In my opinion, I suggest the latter, but you’re just as headstrong as he is, so I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do. That being said, I know what you want to do, I know you well, and the Victor Nikiforov I know wouldn’t give up so easily. If you don’t read that note you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. So what’s it going to be? Move on? Or move forward? _ ” 

 

“Thank you, Chris.” Victor didn’t even give his friend a chance to respond before ending the call. He tossed his phone to the sofa, causing a sleeping Makkachin to stir and tilt her head in curiosity at the sudden vigor in her human’s steps. Makkachin hopped up and was hot on his heels, following him to the kitchen and resting her paws on his hip as he pulled the small package from the drawer. He slammed the door shut and pulled out the toy and the note, eyeing them both carefully. 

 

Victor slammed the pink bone onto the counter and carefully ripped into the envelope, all previous fear tossed out the window with Chris’ words. His eyes glazed over as he began the letter, his heart pounding harder than it ever had before.

 

Blue eyes carefully studied each word taking them to heart. The further he read into the note, the harder it was to read, ink smudged but legible, the dried droplets painting a painful picture in Victor’s mind.  Victor’s own tears patterred to the paper below, smearing the writing further, though he’d already read it over three times he protested the offending beads. He hugged the tear stained paper close to his chest, heaving out the tears he’d chosen to let flow, tears of the best variety. 

 

Victor slapped the paper onto the countertop and pulled up the airline app on his phone to schedule the soonest flight. As soon as it was booked, the first red-eye out, he wasted no time in making himself presentable, and packing as few of his and Makkachin’s bare essentials as he could.

 

On his way out the door, doing his final check for everything he trained his eyes on the counter. Victor rushed back to remove the chew toy from the clean surface and smiled fondly at the tear-soaked pages. He knelt and threw his arms around Makkachin’s neck, holding her closely and sobbing with joy into her fur. “Makka, we’re going back to Yuuri!” 

 

He ended the embrace quickly, to allow plenty of time to get settled at the airport, struggling to clasp his beloved pet’s lead in place as she wiggled excitedly beneath him. He nearly slammed the door and made his way to the honking taxi with a skip in his step he’d never quite had before. Victor whistled in the back of the taxi, a hand lightly stroking soft brown fur, all the while, re-reading the note in his mind, every word fresh in his memory.

 

> _ “Victor,  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I don’t know how to say this, and I’ve spent months trying to figure it out. You know I’m not good with this sort of thing, but I’m going to try because you deserve nothing less. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I’m sorry that I hurt you by sending you away and that I didn’t call or apologize sooner. I’m sorry that I lied; I didn’t want you leave. That’s the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want you to stop skating. I didn’t want to stop skating. I don’t want you to stay in Russia. (Not without me at least.) I only want you. It’s always only been you. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I know I can never take it back. I know I’m the one who sent you away. I thought it would hurt you more to hold you back but I was just being dumb and selfish. I was really selfish! I didn’t consider your feelings at all, and that wasn’t right. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ These past months without you have been hell. I miss you every day. Even the annoying things, like waking up to find you in my bed uninvited, or your unsolicited public displays of affection. I miss your smile, and your laugh, and your voice. I miss your everything!  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I don’t know if you hate me, and I don’t blame you if you do. I also don’t know if you can forgive me, and I don’t expect you to.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ My intention is not to hurt you more, and I hope this note doesn’t. I just thought that maybe saying these things would only make you angry, and I was scared.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of living without you. I got so sick of wondering if I made the wrong decision, and I hate myself for taking so long in knowing that I did. I pray it’s not too late. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ There’s nothing I can do or say to right the wrong I’ve done to you. I can’t magically take it back or  fix it with an “I’m sorry”, or a box of chocolate. But I can tell you this: _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Victor, I love you! I love you so much it hurts, whether we’re together or apart. I want to be with you. I want to stay close to you. I want to skate together and live together, and eat Katsudon and Pirozhki with you. I want to win gold and get married. I want to make you proud and I want to spend the rest of my life proving these things to you.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I spent my whole life watching you from afar, and I thought I wanted to be like you, but having you by side has proven that I don’t want to be like you. I want you to be you, and for me to be me, and for both of us to be ourselves, together, with each other, forever.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I understand if you don’t feel the same, and I understand if you never want to see me again, but I couldn’t bare the thought of never telling you the truth.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Even if it’s to reject me, or tell me off, I hope you’ll text me, or call me, or anything really, when you read this. I would love to tell you these things off of paper, even if it’s hard or makes me nervous. I would shout it from the rooftops if you wanted me to. “I Katsuki Yuuri really messed up! I broke Victor Nikiforov’s heart and I apologize for that! But I love him, and I’ll  _ **_never_ ** _ apologize for that!”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ That’s how much you mean to me, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that from the start.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I hope to hear from you, even if it’s what I deserve to hear, rather than what I want to hear. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Forever yours, _
> 
> _ 勝生 勇利 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left....What will happen????? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
>  
> 
> Privyet = Hello (Russian / Informal)
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I ask you a question, Yuuri?” Yuuri nodded, though he kept his eyes cast on the water, avoiding Victor’s gaze, although he knew it wasn’t right. “Of course you can.” Yuuri’s voice and breathing was shaky, and his hands twisted at the small towel in his grasp, beneath the surface. Victor took a sharp inhale which transferred to a heavy sigh, no doubt analyzing his own question in his mind. “Why did you lie to me?”

**Hasetsu - Six months and two days after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “This is the only thing I could think of to surprise you, more than you’ve surprised me.” _

 

Yuuri had not imagined, it was the last thing he’d expected when his sister called for him from the front desk, that he would immediately be capture by familiar lips. The split second before Victor’s arms where woven tightly around him and they tumbled to the floor, Yuuri saw an expression that he’d carefully locked away with his best of memories. The look in Victor’s eyes matched the exact moment they reunited at Fukuoka International Airport after the Rostelecom Cup, and it pierced Yuuri’s heart with just as much love and longing as the first time.

 

Victor had bounced in his seat for the entire trip, not an ounce of sleep caught through the increasingly restless twelve hour flight, but the dark circles under his eyes could not take away from his excitement. Victor had made it back to his Yuuri, where he intended to stay and he never wanted to let go, let alone at that moment. Once Victor removed his lips from Yuuri’s, the familiar taste sending elated shivers down his spine, he rested his head in the crook of Yuuri’s neck, his warm embrace enveloping the other with seemingly no chance of escape - Yuuri didn’t want to escape.

 

Makkachin was preoccupied by Mari’s attentions, the situation seeming to resonate with the poodle as if they were home and all was normal with the world, as if she’d just seen everyone that morning, before a walk, as if it was right. It was right, so right, and both Victor’s and Yuuri’s hearts lept in their chests, pounding against each other with fervor. Each beat was erratic and laced with unspoken words, an unsure future, and the only certain thing, their love for each other.

 

Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor, holding him tight and close and refusing to let go as he lost the war with his tears. He buried his face into Victor’s silver locks, choking out breaths and aware that Victor’s frame wracked with his own emotional release, his shoulder growing damp. 

 

“I missed you.” Yuuri nearly whispered, a strained but happy declaration that came just before a soft kiss to the whorl of Victor’s hair. Yuuri tightened his embrace around Victor’s shoulders, angled in a way that his hands could gently stroke and twirl Victor’s silky, platinum strands. “Mhmm. Me too.” Victor choked out, his tone almost childlike, into the sensitive skin of Yuuri’s neck, the tears ceasing to ebb.

 

The tearful reunion was interrupted by a sloppy, wet tongue to Yuuri’s cheek in an attempt to kiss away the tears. Yuuri wiggled under Victor’s frame and protested, attempting to push away the offender and prevent any further assault, his voice laced with ticklish laughter. “Makka, stop it!” 

 

Victor sat up, and adjusted to the side of Yuuri’s legs, though he still hovered above with his arms on either side of Yuuri’s lap. Yuuri followed, all the while trying to save his tear soaked face from being drenched in poddle slobber. Yuuri looked up to see an Mari glaring down at them with a stern expression, and he froze. 

 

“Seriously? Victor leaves, you try to drop off the face of the earth, Victor pops out of nowhere, and this? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you guys seem happy, and I don’t have to know the details, but...Maybe you’d like to continue somewhere more private?” Mari motioned out to the inn where some patrons were watching intently, their ears tuned in like satellite dishes and their eyes greedy for details to turn into gossip.

 

Yuuri nodded before he removed himself from the floor and brushed himself off, turning brief attention to Makkachin as she balanced herself on his hip. Victor did the same, and retrieved his small amount of luggage from the entrance way, all had been abandoned and dropped to the floor the moment Victor’s ocean, eyes spotted the other. 

 

“Vi-chan!” A familiar voice rang through the air and Victor smiled as the smaller woman approached him with arms open wide, locking him into an inviting hug. Victor’s arms were trapped so he could not properly return the embrace but a fond and relaxed expression painted his features. Victor chuckled, but his response was uncharacteristically meek. “I’m home.” 

 

“Yuuri, you should have told me he was coming!” Yuuri stuttered but promptly responded. “I uh-I didn’t know he was.” Hiroko pulled away patting him down and looking him over, a look of displeasure furring into her brow. “You’ve lost weight? We can’t have that now! Katsudon for both of you, coming right up!” 

 

Yuuri attempted to interject, but Victor beat him to it. Victor lied through his teeth with a dismissive wave and a friendly smile. “I ate on the plane.” Hiroko puffed her cheeks in protest but it didn’t last for long. “Well you’ll at least have a seat and catch up, right? It’s been so long, and I’m sur-”

 

“Mom.” Mari interrupted. Hiroko made eye contact with her daughter, who promptly nodded her head in Yuuri’s direction while clearing her throat. Yuuri was at the edge of the hall, nervously fidgeting with his fingers, an expression drenched in many emotions plastered all over his features. Yuuri’s puffy eyes sparkled, his cheeks burned red and his lips were pulled in an awkward line as the urge to smile and frown fought for dominance. 

 

Hiroko blushed, herself, suddenly embarrassed by her own naivete to the situation. “Oh- Well, just let me know if you change your mind, Vi-Chan, our home and our kitchen are always open to you. You know that.” Victor nodded and Hiroko retreated with a bounce in her step. Victor smiled and looked to Yuuri. Blue met brown and locked, each one deeply searching the other’s eyes with longing and question, while simultaneously just drinking in the well-missed warmth. 

 

\---

 

The two retired to Yuuri’s room and sat in drawn out silence. Yuuri was firmly planted, backwards, in his desk chair, and Victor sat on the edge of the bed. Yuuri’s arms gripped tightly around the back of the seat and Victor’s handed clutched tightly into Yuuri’s bedsheets. Makkachin laid in the middle of the floor, tail wagging and tongue hanging from her mouth in total bliss. She had been unable to choose which of her humans she’d wanted to lay on and had accepted the literal middle ground as the best option.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Yuuri raised his head, their eyes searching each other’s once more as Victor swallowed his words again and again before they were able to pass his lips. “Will you touch me?” 

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened but a sweet smile pulled as the corner of his lips.Yuuri left the chair behind and settled toward the head of the bed, resting a hand on Victor’s cheek. Victor’s smile was genuine, his blue eyes hesitant but sparkling. Soon, silver hair was planted safely in Yuuri’s lap and Yuuri’s fingers sifted carefully through the silky locks. Victor hummed in content, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax under the touch. 

 

Most people would be thrown off by such a bold request, but not Yuuri. Yuuri had been hesitant at first, but had since long accepted that touch and close proximity were not exclusively sexual to Victor, and that he simply craved the feeling of physical affections. When he asked to be touched, he always meant it innocently. Before Phichit had come into Yuuri’s life, he didn’t care for touch at all, but Phichit tendencies of over-affectionate, platonic touch had eventually loosened him up. It was like re-learning it entirely when Victor had come into his life, receiving such affection from his idol was different, like hitting a reset button, setting his nerves on fire. 

 

The silence continued, but Victor flinched when a warm droplet fell to his cheek, the slight tightening of the fingers in his hair prompting him to look up. Yuuri’s bottom lip was caught tight between his teeth and his eyes overflowed, glasses fogged and hanging loosely toward the end of his nose. “Victor, I’m so sorry.” 

 

Victor’s eyes widened and he was instantly upright, scooting toward Yuuri and pulling him closer as quickly as he could. Victor hugged tighter as Yuuri’s sobs elevated and his hand found thick, black tufts, stroking them in soothing patterns. Victor didn’t say anything, not a noise escaped him and Yuuri could not fight the urge to selfishly beg as the moments dragged on with seemingly no end in sight. “Please...Say something?” 

 

Victor’s brows knitted tight and his lips pursed, he didn’t know what to say. As much as he wanted to just forgive Yuuri and have everything instantly go back to how they were, that wasn’t an option. Victor couldn’t just forget the pain he’d allowed to consume him for months, without his beloved. 

 

“What would you like me to say, Yuuri? I can’t tell you ‘it’s okay’, because it honestly isn’t.” Victor’s tone was blunt but not unkind, calm and logical was the best way to describe it. Yuuri choked out his sobs as the guilt boiled over in his gut, his breath growing harder and harder to catch. Victor held him tighter, his hands tracing calming circles on Yuuri’s back, despite the heaviness in his own chest.

 

Yuuri clutched, white knuckled, at the back of Victor’s shirt, his eyes hazy and sore and his cheeks becoming raw. He buried his face as deep as it would go into Victor’s shoulder, as if the other would disappear the moment he let go.  Once more the silence dragged on, and once more Victor was the one who broke it.

 

“I love you too, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice was plain and almost strained, but the words still sent an electric current through Yuuri’s heart, shooting through every vein and nerve with unfathomable intensity. Yuuri clutched the other as tight as he possibly could, and Victor returned the tightened embrace, himself.

 

Clear pearls flicked from Victor’s silver lashes with every blink, as he couldn’t stop the tears of his own, the moment being as bitter-sweet as they come. So many emotions rushed through the both of them, regret and happiness and hurt and comfort, all piled into a mountain of baggage that both needed to unpack, but couldn’t find the words to do so. 

 

Silence was unavoidable as neither could find their words, and the two resigned to laying on the bed in a soft, wordless embrace, the blanket of tension in the air not forgotten, but ignored. The two faced each other, resting on their sides, Victor’s face buried into Yuuri’s chest and Yuuri’s buried in Victor’s hair. Victor locked his arms around Yuuri’s waist and Yuuri allowed his to gently cradle the other’s neck. Makkachin had since discovered she could lay between them and opted for a cozier place to nap, settling between the sliver of space between their legs.

 

Both were utterly exhausted, and even given their restlessness to the heavy topics that needed to be addressed they quickly succumb to slumber. The sleep that had previous eluded them was happy to find them as they curled into each other’s arms with steadying heartbeats and slowing breaths. Unshed tears dried into the corners of their eyes, and reddened cheeks cooled as small sniffles and snores permeated the silence. 

 

\---

 

A knock on the door startled Yuuri awake, Victor still peacefully snoozing in his arms. Yuuri grasped at the sheets, looking for his phone, but found Victor’s instead, fixing his eyes on the screen to check the time and confirming it was evening already. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but the light of sunset peeked through the curtains as he trained his gaze on the window.

 

“Boys, dinner’s ready!” Yuuri tuned into his mother’s voice, and the second round of moderate knocking. His own voice was raspy, as if it was first thing in the morning, but he managed to choke out a response. “Thanks Mom, we’ll be down in a minute!”

 

“Alright, dear!” The knocking ceased and Yuuri focused his vision back on the phone in his hand, inspecting the photo of himself and Victor at the Kiss and Cry, after the short program in Barcelona, which occupied the lock screen. A sad smile formed on his lips as all of the memories rushed back - the photo had been taken just hours before Yuuri proposed they go their separate ways. 

 

Victor stirred, his movements sleepy. His eyes didn’t open, but his head raised slightly and his tired voice was like music to Yuuri’s ears. “Dinner?” Yuuri nodded and hummed in confirmation, placing the phone, face down, beside him on the mattress. 

 

The two reluctantly removed themselves from each other’s grasp and stretched, sliding out of bed with weak limbs, eliciting a booming yawn from the Russian. They took turns washing up before they slowly headed to the dining room, shoulders brushing as they walked side by side, Makkachin following close behind. 

 

Victor had left a half-consumed bag of Makkachin’s food behind, considering it unnecessary cargo as he could buy a fresh pack when he returned to Russia. Yuuri insisted for Victor to have a seat and proceeded to the kitchen cupboard to retrieve the poodle’s meal, before sitting down to enjoy his own. He did as he always had when Victor wasn’t watching and mixed in some warm broth for extra flavor, earning an anticipating bark. He smiled and patted her on the head as he set the bowl in front of her. “I missed you too, girl.” 

 

After rinsing his hands, Yuuri returned, taking his usual seat next to Victor, a spot that had felt painfully empty in his absence was now filled once more. Hiroko had been warned not to press, by Mari, who knew the gist of the situation from her conversations with Phichit. Toshiya was careful in what he asked, but Victor didn’t hesitate to engage him when questioned. Mari spent the entirety of the time glaring at Yuuri, which earner a questioning look and a shrug from her brother. 

 

Victor was forbidden from helping clear the table, something he had only previously been forbidden from doing when he was still a fresh face, though he protested. Yuuri was dismissed as well, as Hiroko insisted that the two of them take a dip in the hot spring, a suggestion that both warmly welcomed.

 

\---

 

Despite their previous closeness, both kept at arms length in the bath. The sudden realization that sleep had ended and they were alone again with every painful thought hovering above them. Both wanted to speak, but neither knew where to start, so they kept their eyes fixed on the water’s surface. Yuuri swallowed hard, and took the first step. His voice trembled, weak with nerves and heavy with guilt. “I’m really glad you don’t hate me.” 

 

Yuuri beat himself up, realizing that his words weren’t really a conversation starter, but more of a dead end declaration. Victor knew Yuuri wasn’t generally good with words or spoken feelings, so he gave the benefit of the doubt, wracking his brain for a response. He couldn’t really figure out what to say. ‘ _ Why would I hate you? _ ’ seemed a bit silly, because most people in Victor’s position would be filled with resentment. ‘ _ I should. _ ’ was too direct, and was painful to think about. 

 

Victor finally settled on affirmation. “Of course I don’t hate you.” Victor worried at his bottom lip, trying to choose everything he said carefully to avoid conflict but still get his feelings out in the open. “I could never hate you. I’m just-” Victor bit into the sensitive flesh of his lip so hard he was certain it would draw blood, admitting the truth becoming hard by the second. “I’m just hurt.”

 

The silence was deafening between them, and Yuuri was unclear if she should speak. He opted that silence was best, as Victor was the only one who truly deserved the verbal right of way. Victor deserved every bit to scream, and yell, and curse, but that wasn’t the type of person he was and they both knew that. 

 

“Can I ask you a question, Yuuri?” Yuuri nodded, though he kept his eyes cast on the water, avoiding Victor’s gaze, although he knew it wasn’t right. “Of course you can.” Yuuri’s voice and breathing was shaky, and his hands twisted at the small towel in his grasp, beneath the surface. Victor took a sharp inhale which transferred to a heavy sigh, no doubt analyzing his own question in his mind. “Why did you lie to me?” 

 

A sharp jolt in Yuuri’s chest caused him to tense, small ripples of movement in the water the only indicator to their downcast gazes. Victor continued, remaining cool and collected. 

 

“I really appreciated your note, but I won’t lie-” Victor licked his lips, dried from anxiety and potential dehydration. “-for a while, I thought that you had lied about wanting me to stay by your side. I worried that you hadn’t meant it, or that you’d changed your mind. That was one of the first places my mind went when you first said you wanted to end things. I was happy when I read the note, because that proved those thoughts wrong, but you still lied.” 

 

Yuuri could feel the guilt bubbling, and his eyes prickled with the threat of tears. He swallowed nervously, his hands still erratically twisting at the cloth in his hold. After a moment of silence he finally spoke up, giving Victor what he knew was a subpar answer, far less than Victor deserved. “I don’t know.” After a few deep breaths, he continued, the anxiety of confrontation taking over. “I don’t really have an excuse. I guess, I just thought that you were better off without me.” 

 

“Why would you think that?” Victor’s voice rose, his tone harsh and accusatory as his head snapped up to focus on the other. Yuuri met his gaze briefly, but he quickly shrunk in on himself, shoulders curling in and head dropping further in shame. He shrugged weakly, but Victor wasn’t satisfied. 

 

“Yuuri, I told you in Barcelona that I was disappointed, that I’d hoped you wanted my help for longer, that I couldn't stand the thought of returning to the ice without you. Did you think that was just some kind of act?” 

 

“Well no, but I-”

 

“But you what?” Victor nearly spat. Yuuri raised his head. The sadness in his eyes was met with intense passion and pain, and he deserved no less. He didn’t like to see Victor angry or hurt, but to see both things at once stole every ounce of breath from his lungs. Yuuri averted his gaze, turning away from the other, his voice small. “You know I don’t have a lot of confidence.”

 

“I’m aware.” Victor chided, his voice quickly lowering. There was a hint of regret in his tone as he continued.  “I guess I really did fail as your coach then. I’m sorry.” 

 

“What? No! Victor-” Yuuri didn’t have time to finish before Victor resumed, his voice harsh once more, agitated by Yuuri’s protest. 

 

“Obviously I did something wrong! It was my job to give you confidence and I failed! I couldn’t even instill enough confidence in you to tell me the truth.” 

 

It was quiet again as both men chewed on their tongues. Uncertainty and tension became overwhelming as the silence dragged on, each waiting for the other to speak. Victor words had cut both of them, and Yuuri knew he deserved them, but to hear Victor blame himself for any of this was too much. Without even filtering his words, Yuuri spat back, raising his voice. 

 

“I know I should have told you the truth, but if you didn’t want to leave you should have said something.” 

 

“I did!” 

 

“No, you didn’t! You just asked me if it’s what I wanted, and when I said yes, you didn’t even fight.”

 

“What was I supposed to do, Yuuri? I couldn’t force you to change your mind!”

 

“But it’s not what I really wanted!”   
  
“Then you should have said so! You can’t expect someone to fix something if you don’t even tell them what’s broken. I’m not inside your head, no one is, it’s only you. If you don’t express how you really feel then people have to take your word, whether it’s how you truly feel or not.”

 

“Yeah well-”

 

“What, Yuuri?! ‘Well’  _ what _ ? You’re the one who told me to leave. You said it’s what you wanted. I did what you said you wanted. It didn’t matter what I wanted.  _ It never mattered what I wanted _ ! Your  _ were  _ selfish. I couldn’t fight because you didn’t even give me a chance to fight! You never once asked me how I felt. You told me it’s what you wanted, and I had to accept that - it doesn’t matter if it’s what you  _ actually  _ wanted or not.”

 

Fire blazed behind their eyes as they intently stared at each other. Both men were fuming and it was obvious, tears streaming from mutual frustration. It was painful to hear and to say, but it was needed in order to heal and move forward. Jaws and fists clenched and the tension sat thick in the steamy air around them.

 

Yuuri knew he had no right to be angry, and Victor knew he had every right, yet neither could help the hurt coursing through their veins. The whispers that had sat in the back of their minds over the past few months that the other didn’t love them rushing in to add insult to injury. Both knew now that those thoughts were lies based on anxiety and self pity, and both knew that if they’d just been honest from the start they could have saved themselves this grief. It was bitter to fight so soon after being reunited, but it was sweet to reaffirm that they were still very much in love with each other. The conversation would have been non-existent if they had been honest, true, but it also would not exist if there was no love behind it.

 

Victor was the first to get out the bath, determined that if he cooled down they could revisit, and knowing that this wasn’t the best place for that type of conversation to begin with. He was quick to dry off and dress. Yuuri wasn’t far behind him, though they chose not acknowledge each other, Victor caught the gleam of Yuuri’s ring from the corner of his eye - an important detail he had missed. They walked together, a previously closed distance present between them, Makkachin trailing behind them with undetermined loyalty. 

 

\---

 

Yuuri paced around his room, fighting off tears and trying to calm himself by repeating Chris’ words to himself. “ _ Just give it time. Just give it time. Just give it time. _ ” He knew that there had to be, there was no instant fix, but that didn’t mean that reuniting with Victor was just as pleasant as it was painful.

 

Victor contemplated the sight of Yuuri’s ring as he gazed lovingly at his own. Had it been there the whole time? As Victor replayed the events of the day he confirmed that it had been, an easy detail overlook considering the golden bands might as well have been ingrained in their very existence. In such a short time, they had become part of them, every bit a part of them as their voices, their smiles and their eyes. 

 

Yuuri turned on his heels when he heard scratching at the base of his door, followed by a whine and a gentle knock. Yuuri shook off his anxiety and quickly dried his face on the towel he had brought back to his room, before answering. 

 

He slid the door open carefully, adjusting his glasses as he focused his view. Victor’s eyes were downcast and lidded with sadness, and Yuuri’s heart shattered at the sight. He moved out of the way so that Victor and Makkachin could enter and shut the door once they were in. 

 

Victor threw his arms around Yuuri, his weight surrounding the shorter man as he pressed his cheek to damp black hair. “If I was better off without you, I would have just stayed in Russia.” Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat and he froze for moment before gently wrapping his arms around Victor’s waist. 

 

“There’s a lot of things we both could have done differently, but what’s done is done. I spent all of my time in Russia thinking about you, and missing you, and just wanting to be by your side again. It’s tough, because you did hurt me, but I hurt you too. I’m sorry that I lost my temper.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize Victor, you have every right to-”

 

“No! I do. This is what  _ I _ wanted. I wanted to be with you again, and I should have said that. I should have responded to your text, and I should have read your letter immediately instead of tossing it the drawer for weeks. I should have told you I loved you sooner, so that maybe none of this would have ever happened. I was scared, too.”

 

“Well, if that’s how you feel.” Yuuri agreed. Victor nodded his head against Yuuri’s, his embrace of the other unrelenting and warm, his heart pounding against his ribcage as Yuuri’s did the same. Yuuri chuckled and Victor pulled back, his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders as he shot him an inquisitive look. 

 

“Sorry-It’s just. Chris really hit the nail on the head. I  _ am _ an idiot.” Victor scoffed as a small smiled tugged at the corner of his lips, pressing further. “Oh really?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I guess that makes two of us, huh?”

 

The two looked at each other with waiting gazes, a moment of silence quickly interrupted by laughter from both men. They leaned on each other as tears dried with each chuckle. Once the laughter died down Victor put their foreheads together, noses touching and longing eyes fixed intently on each other’s. They searched deep within each other, all of their pain mutual and understood without another word needing to be spoken. 

 

Victor reached down and laced their hands together, their golden bands crisp and cool against their warm palms. Yuuri’s eyes widened and turned to their interlocked fingers, surprise overtaking him. Victor’s gaze followed but was quickly met with brown once more as Yuuri silently plead to him. Victor gave a knowing nod and Yuuri smiled, tears welling against his bottom lashes as Victor’s warm smile set butterflies loose in his stomach.

 

The two stood stark still against each other, locked in a heavenly embrace.  They reveled in the familiar feeling, soaking in every small detail they’d missed - each other’s body heat, each other’s scent, each other’s soothing, warm breaths. After what felt like a blissful eternity, they pulled away and relocated to Yuuri’s bed. 

  
They had never slept closer or held each other so tight, neither wanting to let go for the fear the other would be gone in the morning, lost to a dream. Gently whispered ‘ _ I love you _ ’s and chaste kisses to backs of each other’s hands where swifty traded for ghosted breaths and eyelashes fluttering with eminent sleep. A deep and refreshing sleep found them quickly, one that was long forgotten by sleepless nights and sorrow but warmly welcomed with dry eyes and mending hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite the roller coaster boys and girls, but the ride is almost over. 
> 
> I call this chapter… “Naked and Afraid”. (...but not really.)
> 
> Victor is an actual selfless bastard of a cinnamon roll and you can’t change my mind. He’s so good and pure. Honestly, Yuuri doesn’t deserve him right now, but Victor disagrees because he’d rather be by his side. (That's probably not healthy, but what can you do?) 
> 
> The sad bois are happy again!
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a place you just can’t reach unless you have a dream too large to bear alone. We call everything on the ice "love".

**St. Petersburg - Eight months after the Grand Prix Final**

 

_ “There’s a place you just can’t reach unless you have a dream too large to bear alone. We call everything on the ice ‘love.’” _

 

The time that Victor and Yuuri had spent, in Hasetsu, falling in love all over again had drawn to a close. They spent the days soaking in each other’s warmth - long naps to catch up on rest were peppered with deep conversations, trips to Ice Castle and helping out at the inn. 

 

The Nishigori family, Minako and Yuuri’s family had thrown a casual, but overdone, party in their honor to see them off to St. Petersburg. The party included far too much wine and a Skype call with Phichit and Chris, who celebrated from afar, in Phichit’s living room. Chris had promised to visit before the season picked back up and held true to his word. 

 

Yuuri didn’t have much to move, but there was still enough to warrant a small shipment from Hasetsu to Russia. Much to Victor’s dismay, Yuuri hadn’t left a single article of clothing behind - Victor had secretly hoped the worst of it would go missing in transit.

 

They’d been going relatively non-stop since they arrived in St. Petersburg and there wasn’t much time for Yuuri to get settled. The two finally had a day off from the rink and Victor’s overly-enthusiastic rink mates, (excluding Yuri), so they were able to get down to business.

 

Yuuri was struggling with a particularly heavy box, Victor calling to him from the bedroom at the end of the hall that he’d be there in just a moment to help. Yuuri dismissed him, though he stumbled, his rear end bumping the stereo system. The stereo hadn’t been used since, what Chris had appropriately named, the _ Great Russian Cry Fest _ , and it picked up to a song that had been previously playing on repeat.

 

Victor reached the end of the hall as soon as the music began, a deep blush extending from the tips of his ears to his collarbone. Victor was absolutely sheepish, attempting to stammer out some form of explanation as he witnessed Yuuri’s shocked expression. 

 

Yuuri burst into side splitting laughter, throwing himself onto the floor with a supportive hand around his rib cage. Victor whined in protest as Yuuri practically rolled on the hardwood. “Don’t make fun of me okay! It was Georgi’s idea...and it actually helped a little.” Victor huffed and his lips pressed into an adorable pout as his fiancé’s laughter did not cease. His arms crossed over his chest and his hip cocked to the side, his foot tapping wildly in disapproval. The red on Victor’s cheeks was as persistent as Yuuri’s seemingly, mocking laughter. “Besides, you’re the one who broke  _ my _ heart remember.” 

 

Yuuri wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his own face red from the exertion. He looked at Victor, waving his arms wildly in denial. “No! No! It’s not that!” Yuuri caught his breath but did not move from his place on the floor, his eyes softening and his tone serious as he looked up at his love. “It’s just...I listened to this one a lot too. It felt really relatable, you know? It gave me some hope - especially when I was a hot mess and couldn’t bring myself to reach out to you. I guess it’s funny how the world works sometimes. Like it’s fate, or something.”

 

Victor smiled at him, his gaze no longer displeased but full of joy. Collapsing to the floor, Victor laid beside him. Their bodies faced opposite directions but their heads gently rested against each other’s. They looked at each other longingly, with grateful smiles, their eyes searching each other’s desperately and finding nothing but deep affection and true love. They lost themselves in each other’s eyes as the newly familiar song drifted through the air like a blanket of prophecy, as they melted into each other.

 

_ ♪  _ _ I find the map and draw a straight line, _

_ Over rivers, farms and state lines, _

_ The distance from here to where you'd be, _

_ It's only finger-lengths that I see. _

_ I touch the place, _ _   
_ _ Where I'd find your face, _ _   
_ _ My fingers increases, _ _   
_ __ Of distant dark places.

_ I hang my coat up in the first bar, _ _   
_ _ There is no peace that I've found so far. _ _   
_ _ The laughter penetrates my silence, _ _   
_ _ As drunken men find flaws in science, _ __   
  


_ Their words mostly noises, _ _   
_ _ Ghosts with just voices. _ _   
_ _ Your words in my memory, _ _   
_ __ Are like music to me.

_ I'm miles from where you are, _ _   
_ _ I lay down on the cold ground. _ _   
_ _ I, I pray that something picks me up, _ _   
_ __ And sets me down in your warm arms.

_ After I have traveled so far, _ _   
_ _ We'd set the fire to the third bar. _ _   
_ _ We'd share each other like an island, _ _   
_ __ Until exhausted, close our eyelids.

_ And dreaming, pick up from, _ _   
_ _ The last place we left off. _ _   
_ _ Your soft skin is weeping, _ _   
_ __ A joy you can't keep in.

_ I'm miles from where you are, _ _   
_ _ I lay down on the cold ground. _ _   
_ _ And I, I pray that something picks me up, _ _   
_ __ And sets me down in your warm arms.

_ And miles from where you are, _ _   
_ _ I lay down on the cold ground _ _   
_ _ And I, I pray that something picks me up, _ _   
_ _ And sets me down in your warm arms.  _ __ ♪

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Yurio burst in and told them to “suck a dick” and “stop being so dramatic”...THE END!
> 
> This accidentally became a song fic because I started writing it using their quotes to introduce each chapter. Notice how Yuuri’s chapters had quotes from Victor and vice versa? See what I did there? Ehhh?? So yeah - I thought Set Fire to the Third Bar would go great with it and I’d already snagged the title from one of the lyrics, because I suck at titles, and it just kind of happened. Oops.  
> It’s literally perfect though! It’s an amazing song, and you should give it a listen if you haven’t already. Very beautiful! ( Though, I get it if it’s just not your style though. I will personally listen to pretty much anything. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ )
> 
> Anyway! A super big thank you to everyone who stuck through to the end. I hope you weren’t disappointed and that you enjoyed the read. I will also have some palate cleansing content coming up very soon, just got to finish it up! A lot of fluff, and maybe a side of smut. Now that these dorks are living together again, and alone might I add, shit’s about to get disgusting! ♥
> 
> Stay tuned for more mediocre content!! And if you’re also interested in Phichit’s and Chris’ sides of this. -wink wink- I’m loving their development. They’re super gross. 
> 
> I am working on turning this into a series. Specifically, I will be doing the prior from the Chis/Phichit side, and I’m already planning out a spin off series of Phichit’s travels mentioned in chapter 12 of this one - so keep an eye out for “Phichit Chulanont’s Guide to International Travel and Spectacular Friendships ( Now available in 7 Languages and none of them are Canadian-French )”
> 
> Comments are love! Constructive criticism is welcome. ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ
> 
> Until next time! Dasvidaniya! ♥


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